


Ron Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

by JonRiptide



Series: Ron Weasley's Time Travel [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Hogwarts First Year, Mostly Faithful to Canon, POV Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley-centric, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonRiptide/pseuds/JonRiptide
Summary: Ronald Weasley is a renowned wizard with a rising career, a big family and a loving wife. However, when an unforeseen force emerges and puts at risk everything he holds dear, Ron has to take the lead and make the right decisions. Can he succeed in a role that was never meant to be his? - Time travel. Cross posted with ffnet.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Ron Weasley's Time Travel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801558
Comments: 72
Kudos: 75





	1. The Man Who Killed

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. DISCLAIMER. The obvious. I do not own anything. Thanks to Ms Rowling for giving us such wonderful stories.
> 
> 2\. This is a repost of sorts from an old story I used to have in ffnet, when I used the HarryBond007 username. It is me, I am not stealing it. The story has improved since then and I never published it here, so here it goes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious force emerges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to SnowBear17 and ORCA47 (both from ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with those valuable advices
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. Enjoy.

Mrs Marsden, of Long Harbour Road, was one of the most cheerful people in town. She wasn't one to dwell in worries or foolish gossiping, for they were mindless ways of losing one's life. She found fictional giants and other fables to be more worthy of her time than any kind of harmful nonsense.

The young woman owned a small flower stand down the street, which she had cheekily named _A Poshy of Tulips_. It had her undivided attention for the better part of the day, as she was passionate about creating the perfect arrangement for each person. Mrs Marsden was lanky and freckled as a summer stargazer, yet her hair had the deep auburn tones of the fall. She didn't consider herself to be as stunning as her flowers by any means, and would happily complain of her 'a tad too big' ears to anyone who would listen. Nevertheless, she had a free spirit and an unparalleled liveliness, something that had dazzled Mr Marsden when he had first met her, which seemed like ages ago.

It was no secret that Mr Marsden had been gone for over two years now, after a wearing battle against an illness no doctor had been able to understand. His young widow would rather not go on about it though, choosing to remember her late husband as the man he was before the accident. Jacob Marsden had been a sworn enemy of routine, a young lad with an uncanny thirst for adventure and — to his wife's constant dismay — never planned anything ahead of time. The man couldn't lie for the life of him, not even for politeness' sake. And yet, he had the magical power of getting a laugh out of people just when it was needed. Most importantly of all, he had been set on providing his wife with lovely moments that she would remember for a lifetime. That was the man whom Mrs Marsden had fallen in love with; she didn't like to dwell on the disease that had made an empty shell out of him. It was a disservice to him, and the last thing he would've wanted.

So, when Katherine Marsden woke up on that fateful morning, she put away all the sorrowful thoughts she had. She opened her wardrobe, which was painfully empty, and picked a polka dot sundress to go on with her day.

It was a four-block walk to her flower stand, a calm path flanked by red brick houses and shops. The ample roads were clean as usual, and the soft breeze made Mrs Marsden remember the nearby sea. Contrary to its name, Long Harbour Road was many blocks away from the actual harbour, something Mrs Marsden was thankful for. Even while she enjoyed the occasional trip to the sea market, she was better off without having to deal with the clutter of people and memories from the docks every day.

Nonetheless, Mrs Marsden knew she had to pay Charlie and the old gang a visit one of these days. With the closure of the docks, it would be good to know if there was anything she could do to help.

A few steps later, the usual hustle and bustle welcomed Mrs Marsden into the commercial zone. Mercifully, this time there were no signs of dodgy men lurking in the corners. She had noticed them a few days ago, gandering aimlessly and unnerving her with their ever-watchful eyes. Their mere presence was enough to make her hair curl, for she had seen them before, the days following her husband's accident.

"Good morning, dear. Is everything alright?" asked a bright voice, making the young woman veer at once.

"Oh yes, Mrs Warwick, a marvellous day. How's your morning going so far?"

The woman glanced curiously at Mrs Marsden, she was a keen observer and hardly missed a thing. "Nothing overly dreadful as of right now, I'll concede, but you know madness awaits me today. There's so much left to do and not enough time to get half of it done."

"I can imagine. If it helps, I have your flowers sorted out and ready to be picked up at two o'clock, as promised. One more thing to check off your list."

"Delightful. I already warned this son of mine that he better hold on to this woman, for I'm not planning another wedding in my lifetime."

Mrs Marsden gave her an easy smile. "I reckon he picked a good one, don't you worry."

"One can only hope," Mrs Warwick said. "I have to get going, dear, but I'll be looking for you tonight. There are people I would like you to meet."

"Looking forward to it."

After a rushed goodbye, Mrs Warwick took her leave, heading for the next pressing item on her to-do list. The older woman had just gone inside the pastry shop when Mrs Marsden reached her flower stand.

_A Poshy of Tulips_ was located at one of the busiest corners on Long Harbour Road. The modest wooden stand was neatly painted in olive-green and garnished with sober decorations. It was Mrs Marsden's sanctuary of sorts; every little thing there sparked a much-needed joy in her life. The florist looked chuffed with herself as she put her green work apron on, briskly pulling her auburn hair back in a ponytail as she had done hundreds of times before. Then it was time to write the uplifting quote of the day on her chalkboard.

Mrs Marsden thought of the wedding Mrs Warwick was organizing. The woman wanted to introduce her to a potential suitor, most certainly. Even so, the young woman wasn't sure how to feel about it just yet. It had taken time and sage counsel to stop opposing the idea of a new relationship, but it still felt foreign to even think of it. Mrs Marsden wanted to believe that when or if love ever came back into her life, she would be able to recognize it.

_'Let life surprise you'_ , she wrote on her chalkboard, then went on to pick up her flowers.

"Any word from the docks, Mr Reed? Are they letting the boats out yet?" Mrs Marsden asked as a beefy man helped her carry buckets of flowers outside.

Mr Reed, the owner of the market next door, had a large room to keep his vegetables fresh and was always kind enough to shelter her flowers for the night.

"It was an open sea accident, likely caused by one of those ruddy oil ships," the man answered thoughtlessly. "There was talk of explosions and an odd fog if Ol' Pete is to be believed."

Mrs Marsden stopped dead in her tracks, almost stumbling over a bucket of her flowers. "A fog? What kind of fog?" she croaked.

"Of that, I know nothing, lass," Mr Reed said, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. "Although, there are no reports of injured sailors."

Mrs Marsden let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. "That's good to know."

The delicious scent of morning bread was coming from the bakery across the street, yet Mrs Marsden was too far away to care or even notice. Four years ago, her husband's boat had been caught by a fog of spilt chemical fumes, returning him to her paralyzed and empty. Mrs Marsden had complained to the government and to every oil company in the country, but it had all been for nought. She couldn't find anyone that could give her answers about the tragedy. Her husband never recovered, no matter how hard Mrs Marsden had prayed the following years, no matter how much effort she had put into the care of his most basic needs, no matter how many stories she had read to his motionless body. The man she had loved kept breathing dutifully, but his very soul didn't seem to be there anymore.

Over those two years, Mrs Marsden had been a mess more often than not. Countless times she had pleaded to her husband's body to give them a sign that he was listening, and each time she had hoped in vain. In their room, she could stare at him in absolute silence for hours, waiting. But out of that door, the knot in her throat could get so unsustainable that she would sometimes lash out at friends and bystanders for the most unfair of reasons. Some days, she had wished for a better situation for herself, only for the guilt to punish her afterwards. Some nights, she had cried herself to sleep because surely she wasn't doing enough.

"I'm sorry, Kate," Mr Reed said once all the flowers were next to her stand, taking her out of her musings. "I should've known this would bring back memories. Jack was a good lad. He's missed."

Mrs Marsden swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Don't be, Mr Reed. This accident could have been a different thing altogether, and I've decided nothing will upset me today. Let's just rejoice no harm came to anyone this time," she answered with the warmest smile she could muster.

It was so that Mrs Marsden got on with her day, glancing at the corner occasionally. She was still thinking about the accident and those mysterious men. Were they related? Was this new accident the reason for their return?

Something was seriously off with them. They seemed to belong to some queer government agency, and the way most of them dressed was just too mismatched to ignore. No one else had paid attention to it all those years ago, but they had talked to Mr Marsden's friends shortly after the accident. Charlie and some of the other sailors had told the men about the unnatural cold brought by that weird fog. However, once those mysterious men left, all of the details faded from the sailors' memories, as if they had forgotten. But how could one forget such a thing? A part of her had wanted to unravel the mystery. She was positive those men were to blame and she desperately wanted answers. Still, she couldn't bring herself to press Charlie and the rest. They had already been feeling guilty for not being able to help.

There had been no point in causing distress then, just as it was of no use to dwell on regrets now. That was in the past, and the day was just too beautiful to taint it with sour memories. It was not too claggy, which was saying something with summer rains being the norm so far east of the country. However, Mrs Marsden was not about to gripe on the matter, she loved sunny days and they were good for business as well.

As it turned out, _A Poshy of Tulips_ was the most popular flower shop around. It had its fair share of regulars, but on special occasions, it burst with new people as well. Despite its name, Mrs Marsden had more than one type of flower to offer. There were certainly elegant white tulips, but she also had the reddest roses and loveliest pink lilies one could find. The woman was also fond of less popular varieties, which she often recommended to her customers, such as bright yellow pansies and proud petunias.

"There's a flower for every occasion," she often said. "The most popular or eye-catching is rarely the one you need."

Mrs Marsden was a remarkable person, and yet a woman of habits, never as off-the-cut as her husband had been. Leaving the city to marry him had been the one and biggest unpredictable thing she had ever done, something she had never regretted.

It had taken Jacob Marsden only one day to convince her that the city was not for her, on a lovely afternoon at New North Pier, the best place by Roker's shore. She knew then, as the waves crashed against the breakwater, that there was no turning back for her. More importantly, Katherine Marsden knew without the slightest hint of hesitation that she would do it all over again just to relive those moments. _Sometimes a minute of utter happiness is worth a lifetime of hardships._

A nephew of Mrs Warwick came to pick up the wedding flowers that afternoon, and soon the sun began to wane. The rest of her flowers were swiftly stored again under Mr Reed's protection, as usual. The plump store owner had left early, as most of the shop owners did on weekends. Mrs Marsden had to leave as well if she wanted to make it to the wedding on time. The woman had only stayed behind to arrange the flowers she was to take to the graveyard the next day. She wanted them to be perfect, as always. Once she was satisfied, she put away her apron and picked up her purse, then turned around carelessly. To her surprise, she was thrown to the floor when someone crashed against her.

"Oh, excuse me, I'm very sorry," a man's voice said hurriedly. "I was distracted, it's all my fault."

Mrs Marsden raised her eyes, still trying to smooth her sundress after the fall. The man trying to help her up had a hair of a brown so dark that it was almost black, and a square face that seemed truly embarrassed. Mrs Marsden turned to see her belongings scattered all around, but much to her relief, her flowers were mostly untouched.

With some embarrassment of her own, she accepted the stranger's hand and started shaking the dirt out of her sundress.

"None of it, I turned without looking. I ought to remind myself that the street is not mine to prance about," said Mrs Marsden, who had suffered the consequences of distraction before.

After getting back on her feet, Mrs Marden allowed herself a second look at the young man. He had on an elegant grey outfit matched with a posh-looking brown hat, definitely not from around town. Mrs Marsden was wary for a tic, wondering if he might be one of those mysterious men. He couldn't be though, he seemed too nervy and his trousers matched his jacket perfectly. The only odd thing about him seemed to be how jittery he looked.

"I should've been more careful. Please, allow me," the man said, leaving his costly hat on the flower stand and helping her pick up her belongings.

Soon everything was as right as it was before the fall, even the loose strand of red hair which Mrs Marsden had put back in its proper place behind her left ear. Her attention kept shifting back to the man before her. His dark eyes were set on her flowers, there were anguish and longing in them.

"Can I do something for you?" Mrs Marsden asked, as she was no stranger to helping random people.

"I'm afraid not, I need to keep going. Once again, sorry about this."

Mrs Marsden didn't like meddling, but it was against her nature not to help someone in need, and the man had a sad look on him that she just couldn't ignore. "What's her name?"

The young man was startled at first, but eventually he answered. "Maisie."

"It's a shame. I already put away most of my flowers, we could've fixed up something quickly."

"In my situation, flowers are of no help, but thank you for the gesture."

Mrs Marsden was torn, this man looked truly abashed, ashamed even. Could he have done something so bad? Should she be helping him? What if he had done something that really couldn't be fixed or forgiven?

That's when she remembered that only death couldn't be fixed. Everything else seemed much simpler by comparison.

"We all make mistakes. Flowers might not solve your problem but they can certainly help. Trust me," she crooned. "Do you love her?"

It took him only a moment to nod gravely. "Sometimes it's not enough."

"You're a ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Mrs Marsden didn't like that way of thinking. "Sometimes love is all we have. It's easy to give up when it doesn't seem like you make a difference. Let me tell you, Mr Posh-Suit, love does make a difference."

For a brief moment, the man was speechless, staring at the woman. "Somehow you sound an awful lot like my sister," he finally announced.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Mrs Marsden said, smiling. "Sorry for narking you, it's just that I don't like people giving up. Forget about me, you just have to do what feels right, even if it's not easy. You owe it to Maisie and to yourself."

The woman turned around, thinking about how to help him. She would have gladly given her flowers to this young man, they would be more useful to him. Jack wouldn't mind. However, she knew these meant something that was not what the young man needed. Every flower had a meaning, after all.

The arrangement for Mr Marsden was mostly white and cream coloured, but it had a few tiny blue flowers to give it more body. She took one of them away and gave it to the man she had just met.

"This one is inexpensive and I have plenty. It's called an iris. It means hope, and you know what? You can find it almost anywhere. Keep it with you."

The man managed a weak smile as he put the flower inside his jacket. "Thank you."

Once he left, Mrs Marsden turned her attention back to her flowers, ready to fix anything that had been put out of perfect shape. Still, she did follow him with a look, wishing him luck.

The young man carried on for a few more blocks. Aside from the flower stand he left behind, the street around him was deserted. He inched to his right, straight into an empty alley where the waning light of the sun couldn't reach him. His heartbeat quickened. He knew what was coming.

The man's hand moved to his jacket and found the little blueish flower inside. Hope could be found anywhere, that's what the florist had meant. It was a bright saying, that one, however waiting for the best would only take you so far. He needed his wits now.

The man pulled a wooden stick out of his pocket, gripping it dearly. This was no ordinary man, his name was Adrian Pucey, and he was a wizard.

As unbelievable as it might sound, it was the truth. The wooden stick clutched in his hand was his magic wand and, if he wanted to, he could use it as a weapon, throwing all kinds of curses out of it.

Adrian Pucey was a pureblood wizard at that. Growing up, he didn't have any meaningful experience with _muggles_ , which was the wizarding term for non-magical people. He wasn't that unfamiliar to them anymore, but he was still taken aback by gubbins such as the one displayed in the shop across the alley. It was a sign for drill offers, the first Adrian had seen in his life. The wizarding community had no need for drills, an owl shop would have been a more familiar sight to Adrian. Compared to owls, drills were a much stranger and mysterious thing to see.

Regardless, the young man had been learning plenty about muggle culture lately. His girlfriend, Maisie Howard, had made it her own personal mission. Adrian was surprised by how much he had enjoyed it, even preferring muggle-made garments now. Despite not being bad people, his parents had a certain disdain for muggles, and would topple over if they only knew he had muggles making wizarding-style clothing. This was to his girlfriend's amusement and the muggle tailors' puzzlement.

In spite of it, Maisie's bright giggles felt miles away now.

Making an effort to stay focused, Adrian made his way toward the end of the alley. It was a solid wall, no doors or windows whatsoever. There, he tapped his wand to an old brick thrice, and an amazing thing happened. A whole chunk of the wall slid into the black shadows of the building as if it was the most normal door in the world. The wizard didn't give any sign of astonishment, only taking a tentative step forward.

The next moment Adrian was startled, for he was pulled from his muggle-made jacket rather forcibly. The surprise turned to annoyance once he recognized the voices.

"Go on, traitor," a muscular man barked raspily.

"Told ya the prick was scared," a shorter one added, smirking.

The muscular man with the rasping voice was Marcus Flint, an old classmate of Adrian's. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the place where British wizards and witches went to receive their magical education. It was divided into four houses honouring its founders. Marcus and Adrian had both been in Slytherin, the house of the cunning they called it.

Bilgi was the surname of the other man, who was short and pesky. His hair was salt and pepper, with a messy moustache under his nose. Like most of the other men, he was from abroad. Adrian couldn't remember the man's first name for the life of him.

By instinct, he cast a sideways glance at Marcus. Adrian had played Quidditch with him at Hogwarts, the most enjoyable and popular wizarding sport. Of course, then the war had happened and now he shared nothing more with his former mate.

The lights were dim at the end of the aisle, and yet the room didn't seem dark. There was a large table at the front and a curious variety of wooden furniture, cypress if Adrian had to guess, the same wood as Adrian's wand. The atmosphere wasn't much different from that of the Leaky Cauldron, or any other pub for that matter. Nevertheless, Adrian felt uncomfortable, even the silver shields and green tapestries gave him mixed feelings.

He turned to the large table where only three people were seated, trying to keep his attention away from the door behind them. The men were having a lively conversation he couldn't understand. The thin man on the left had a scar on his face that had been recently treated, and his cheeks were somewhat red, surely from drinking. The one on the right didn't seem to have a single scratch on him and was more restrained. But Adrian's interest was set on the one in the middle.

"You're late, boy," the man said, despite not looking like he cared about the delay.

The man was in his forties, he had dark, short hair and a strong jawline. The relaxed and approachable image he gave was evident in his barely visible stubble and the loose shirt under his jacket. However, the distinctive feature in him was his mismatched eyes, black and grey. The man was tough but silver-tongued as well, he used a coarse accent when talking to his foreign partners, and yet his English couldn't be more American. All of Adrian's visits had been directed at him, but he didn't even know his name. Marcus just referred to him as _the foreigner_.

Adrian knew very little about the man, only piecing together details he had overheard. He appeared to have been involved in both wars, escaping capture. Now he seemed to be the head of this new group that not even the Ministry of Magic knew about.

They called themselves _The Dark Company_.

Adrian swallowed, gathering an act of courage he didn't have. He felt the presence of all the enchanted objects in the room. There was a staring glass eye and, not far away from it, a green snake-patterned hourglass. On the wall there was a silver-rimmed mirror, black as the night. Adrian had seen it showing the outside of the alley or some other places farther away. There was also a pair of spinning brass rings, which had detected Adrian's lies before. He took a deep breath, considering his words before speaking.

"It was unwise to meet here. Aurors have been around ever since..." Adrian said, trying to hold a steady voice. He took two long breaths. "I'm sure you're aware."

The foreigner set his mismatched eyes on Adrian, studying him. "Our location is not something you can decide."

Adrian nodded in defeat. He hadn't expected a different outcome.

Marcus and Bilgi sat not far away from him. Unlike them, Adrian could tell that the men at the foreigner's sides were part of his innermost circle. The thin man had shoulder-long, straight hair, black as his moustache, and there was a mischievous grin on his face. Adrian recognized him from the reports. He was the arsonist, Garvan Ferrara. The man on the other side of the foreigner was a mystery, blond and not as prone to laughs. There was something different to him; he appeared to be sly and more dangerous.

They were his lieutenants of sorts. Adrian had seen two more in previous meetings and heard of others as well, and there was at least one woman among them. Adrian learned to pay attention to all of their words, even trivial exchanges. Any information might be of use at some point.

Adrian took off his jacket and noticed his hat was missing, he must've left it at the flower stand. For some reason, he kept thinking back to that muggle florist. She was a common woman, a stranger to him, but there was something about her. She looked nothing like Maisie, and yet shared her uncommon kindness for strangers. Moreover, the way the florist had tried to help him without mucking around the corners reminded Adrian of his sister, Leanne. What would she think of him now?

Leanne wouldn't be entirely against the florist's words, she had always believed in hope. However, she also thought it was of little help without wits and a good plan.

_"When everything else fails, we still have our wits,"_ his sister usually said.

Adrian turned to the foreigner. "You're freeing Maisie. That's why I'm here."

"Not yet."

Maisie should have been free by now, that was the deal. There was something more to this meeting, at least that much was obvious. Adrian had to keep a cool head though, he was no reckless Gryffindor to lash out at the worst possible moment.

"Is she hurt?" he asked.

"Of course not, who do you take me for?" the foreigner protested, as if offended.

"Can I see her then?"

"Perhaps, after we talk business."

"What more do you want? I gave you enough already. I did my part. You haven't done yours."

The blond man at the table spoke coldly then, in flawless English, despite being plain it was not his mother-tongue. "It's not enough. Not until everything goes back to its rightful order."

On the other side, Garvan Ferrara leaned forward, his accent was as American as the foreigner's. "This asshole thinks he's better than us."

"Gentlemen, please. I'm sure Adrian is not implying such a thing." The foreigner paused. "You aren't, right?"

Adrian shook his head.

"I guessed as much," the man said, taking a sip from his glass. "Before we go any further, I must thank you, Adrian. Azkaban was a success."

Adrian's solid facade fell and he rambled, "Azkaban? That wasn't me! I didn't know. I-I wouldn't have—"

Azkaban was the British wizarding prison, not far from the shores of this little town. It was initially guarded by the dementors, nasty and repulsive creatures that could suck the very soul out of any living thing, but after the war they were done away with and Aurors were the only ones guarding the cells now.

The Auror Office was in charge of keeping the law among the wizarding community; Adrian had a boring desk job there, nothing that could put him or anybody else in danger. At least, until now.

"Adrian, very dangerous men were freed last week. People died. Yes, a couple of inmates and a few loyal fellows from the Company, but some Aurors too. Good, honest Aurors, Adrian. Aurors with families. You did that."

Adrian was deadly pale. His legs had almost given out the morning he received the news, and the guilt had been too much to bear ever since.

"Useless, the pack of them." the blond man cut in. "Some didn't even throw a single curse."

"Don't be unfair now, Yanko," said the foreigner, slightly amused. "Garvan here blew a whole chunk of the prison over them. Explosions like that don't give much time for people to react."

The laughter came, haunting and eerie. Adrian was gutted.

"They were good people. I didn't want any of this to happen."

"Where were you then, boy? Where were you while they were dying?" Yanko asked pointedly.

"Probably wagging about, with his arse on that comfortable chair of his," Bilgi remarked, smirking.

Adrian had tried to hide his guilt, blame it all on them. After all, they had forced him, right? They had taken Maisie. They had threatened to harm his parents and Leanne. He couldn't have done anything more. He was no hero, he was just a bloke who wanted to live a regular life. He didn't even care that much about his career ambitions anymore.

However, thinking about it, he reckoned that they were right. He had been on his chair while they died, he had pretended to be surprised as others mourned. Was that being innocent?

The foreigner brought him out of his daze. "Listen, Adrian, this is it. There are plenty of Aurors out there. St Mungo's, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, you name them. And yet, there is one place where they're not expecting anybody." The foreigner put his hands on the table. "Let me get to the point. We want you to tell us which night Harry Potter will be standing guard at the Ministry of Magic."

"What? But— no! I mean, it's Harry Potter!"

"I knew you were on his side!"

"That's rubbish and you know it, Marcus! I'm just trying to live my life. Higgs, Malfoy, and many others are doing the same thing."

"We don't care about your fellow traitors, you dozy pillock!" Marcus bellowed.

It all felt wrong. The smell of the furniture, the green and silver tapestries, he even felt his lungs getting less air. They wanted Harry Potter. Adrian wasn't very close to him, but Potter had never been unkind to him at the office. The young man couldn't stop but wonder what Harry Potter would do in his place if he were given this choice.

There was a ghostly glint on the foreigner's grey eye.

"You'll do as you're bid. You'll help us with their protections and to set up a distraction. You're not our only man inside, we'll know if you lie."

It was not only about Potter, after all, but they also wanted Adrian to give them the Ministry. If he gave them the Aurors' protections he would be signing all of their death sentences. They would wipe them all out, including Potter. Adrian wasn't sure about the rumours that said Potter couldn't be killed, but he doubted he could survive against so many at once.

He didn't see a way out. Was Adrian willing to risk Maisie and his family for those Aurors? Maisie and Leanne would be against this, he knew it. That florist had also advised him to do what felt right for him, and whatever that was, it was this.

"You can't take over the Ministry. You don't have the numbers," Adrian ventured, as a weak resource.

Garvan laughed. "We don't want your stupid Ministry. We're just picking something up, we'll just open this old relic and be done with it," he said, turning to the black mirror at Adrian's back.

"A mirror?" Adrian asked, turning between the mirror and Garvan.

The following hard look the foreigner gave to Garvan and the thin man's guilty reaction let Adrian know he had said too much. Marcus and Bilgi looked confused, but Yanko huffed unpleasantly. Was there another mirror at the Ministry? Why would they go to such trouble to get it? How did you even open a mirror?

"We need an answer, Adrian," the foreigner said, breaking the uneasy silence. "The Ministry. Harry Potter. Now."

Before Adrian could open his mouth, the very mirror Garvan had stared at whizzed, showing the alley. Surprisingly, the muggle florist was there, with Adrian's hat in one hand and her flowers in the other, looking in all directions.

"Hello? Mr Posh-Suit? Did you really come this way?" her voice echoed, other-worldly.

Yanko frowned, the look on his eyes was clear.

"No! Let her go! She won't be able to come inside," Adrian pleaded, staring at the confused woman, her deep auburn hair muted in the reflection.

"A smarter man would've placed wards. This is on you," the foreigner said, showing no emotion.

Adrian paled as the woman kept calling for him. "She'll go! Just give her some time. I reckon she'll go when she doesn't find a door."

"Yanko here is not a patient man."

Adrian was running out of options, and the florist was looking around curiously at the entrance wall. It didn't look as if she was leaving just yet. "Obliviate her instead. There's no need for this!"

That caught the foreigner's attention, who frowned. "I find that solution unsuitable."

Why did it matter so much to Adrian? The muggle was almost a stranger, just as Potter was, and as most of those Aurors who had died at Azkaban were. He couldn't risk those who mattered to him for them. He needed to pick his battles wisely to save Maisie. Could he do this for them? Just once more?

At that moment though, he imagined Maisie's look of disappointment. She wanted him to be better than prejudice, she would want him to be better than this. He turned to the florist, who had tried to help him, and saw Maisie instead.

"No," Adrian said as he stood up, his voice was low and yet unyielding. "You've taken so much already, and I won't let you—"

One word echoed from the distance and Adrian froze.

"Crucio!"

It came from the other end of the room, and the yells that followed were the most horrible Adrian had ever heard. They were the yells of a girl - an all too familiar girl.

"You bastards!"

Adrian aimed his wand, thinking for a moment that he could take them all by himself. He did manage to throw Marcus away but an orange light passed by his eyes and he was thrown back, hitting the floor hard, flat on his back.

"He's fast, isn't he?" the foreigner said about Yanko. "A gifted duelist who has studied and mastered the best magic on both sides of the Volga."

"You said— y-you promised—" Adrian muttered, holding back tears of rage.

"It wasn't me. That was out of my control," the foreigner said, the corner of his mouth forming the shade of a smile.

The door opened and an old man with a twisted face came inside. He had some black mingled in his grey hair and the unequivocal signs of having passed through hard days. Adrian had seen him before in many pictures, but always younger, except for the last few days when one picture showed him to look exactly as he did now.

Antonin Dolohov approached the table, leaving the door ajar.

"I don't know how you keep up with this scum," He addressed the foreigner, raking his long, scraggly hair aside. "The Imperious curse is faster and you have a _legilimens_ in that group of yours."

The foreigner turned to the older man. "Imperius raises suspicions. Eldrick is available, but still, _legilimency_ wouldn't guarantee his cooperation. I trust Adrian will be helpful, father."

Adrian Pucey was shocked. But he couldn't move a finger.

Dolohov walked towards him, making the young man shiver with every step. The aged man bent until his face was merely inches away from Adrian's. Cold drops of sweat were sliding down the young man's face.

"I don't have time for this. You'll do as you're told, or I'll personally take over," said Dolohov with a low growl. "And if I do... I'll kill you, but not before using a few curses on that girl. And I promise you'll watch every bit of it."

The former Death Eater returned to his place, taking a sip directly from the bottle. "Slytherins should be better than this prick."

The terror Adrian felt then was something he hadn't experienced before. The young man nodded as he stood up, and then headed to the table. Adrian told them everything they wanted to know, and even more. The spinning brass rings that would screech if he had lied didn't make a single sound the entire time.

"Do something about that," Dolohov said annoyed, looking at the mirror where the florist could still be seen, mumbling about being late to some party.

The foreigner shook his head when he saw Yanko moving. He met Garvan's now serious look. "You know what to do. Be discreet."

Garvan nodded and stood up, obscuring the mirror's contents from them. Adrian was paralyzed. That woman was truly innocent, unlike him. This was on Adrian too, if he hadn't left that hat behind... if he had only placed wards on the alley...

Even so, when Garvan passed by him, Adrian didn't try to stop him. He just forced his eyes to remain where they were and gripped the edge of the table, as if to steady himself.

_"It's Maise or her… There's no other way…"_ he kept repeating the words inside his head.

Out in the room, in what seemed a different world, Bilgi addressed the room carefully. "Are you sure we need to do this with Potter there?"

"I heard he can't be beaten," Marcus added, just getting back on his chair, throwing knives at Adrian with a look.

Dolohov didn't seem pleased.

"Potter was a frightened boy then and he's still one now! I don't know what kind of trick he used against the Dark Lord, some rubbish with his wand. I faced him once though, he's nothing alone. I'll beat him, and then, I'll bring the Dark Lord back."

The words echoed in the room, somber and final. Adrian Pucey was petrified. He was a person without a choice now, he didn't have the guts to oppose them. Did he?

Was the florist dead already?

Suddenly, Adrian became very aware of the blue flower in his pocket. He wished he was able to do something, to be that man, to take the disappointed looks of Leanne and Maisie away from his head. What had he done?

Adrian Pucey was a traitor, after all, a traitor to the Aurors and even to that kind florist. No better than a murderer. Even if the world never knew about it, Adrian Pucey was going to be the man who killed them all.


	2. The Emerging Fuzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and the Weasleys spend a good time at the Burrow as a threat looms in the horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with those valuable advice. 
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. Enjoy.

The sun was shining bright all over Ottery St Catchpole and its nearby hills, covering every inch of the countryside with a lively warmth only the summer could bring. The landscape was stunning, orchards and green fields spread as far as the eye could see, with only a few farm roads dividing them. It was so peaceful that the low babble of a distant stream could be heard from a mile away.

A young couple came treading down one of these roads. There was no sign of a car and the distance from town made it unlikely they had come walking from there.

The man was tall and had short red hair, his long nose was surrounded by freckles, something which made the blue of his eyes stand out. He was a wizard named Ronald Weasley and the bushy haired woman by his side was his wife.

"They shouldn't be questioning either one of you. It doesn't feel right," the woman said, holding a bowl covered with a white cloth.

"They had to do it with all of us, Redfern insisted," Ron replied, he was carrying three boxes wrapped in colourful patterned paper.

"I know they had to do it, all I'm saying is that it feels wrong. And Azkaban, I can't put my finger on it yet but something just doesn't add up. Do we even know who these people are?"

Ron tried to shrug it off under the pile of gifts. "You're reading too much into it, Hermione. They're just rogue _Death Eaters_. It's only a matter of time before we get them."

He made his best attempt to sound reassuring, still, a frown came to him.

The Death Eaters were dark wizards who had fought in the war. They believed the only people who should be allowed to study Magic were those who came from long lines of magical families. They didn't consider children born from muggles to be worthy of the magical community. Ron and the entire Weasley family couldn't disagree more. Hermione was a muggle-born, and one of the most talented and renowned young witches in the whole of Britain.

"It doesn't make sense. If they only wanted to free those two, why was the first explosion so far away from their cells?"

The whole thing was rather dodgy, Ron had to admit. However, maybe there was no mystery to solve this time. "I dunno. Maybe their intel was sketchy. People looking into it."

Hermione peered around her husband, trying to see if they were alone, which of course they were as they were right in the middle of the countryside. When it seemed like no one would be earwigging, she leaned closer to Ron and spoke as in a murmur.

"What if they know of that thing? The one I told you about?" She paused and lowered her voice, even more, her brow furrowed with concern. "The one at the Ministry."

"Blimey Hermione, you worry too much! You said no one knew."

"I know I did, but, what if they do?" Hermione looked quite frazzled as if her mind was spanning over all what could go wrong. "It's a huge coincidence that just now that—"

"We can handle it, alright? There were not that many, and we caught some of them. They won't last much longer, everyone at the office wants a piece of them."

Ron was not entirely convinced of his own words though. Harry and Redfern thought the break-out was only the beginning of a larger plan. Harry said that whoever did it risked too much, he had a bad feeling too. Ron would have loved to disagree with them but he couldn't, he knew Harry and the Head Auror were into something.

That didn't mean he was going to tell that to Hermione of course.

They reached the bottom of the hill where a large plain field extended. Ron swept their surroundings for anything out of place, an Auror habit. There was green and sunny wherever he looked, nothing dodgy at all. Only a small grey creature scurrying through the grass, a wild raccoon. An american creature, he knew, yet one that had turned more common to see as of lately. Ron made a mental note to warn his father, those pesky animals might seem harmless alone but could get out of hand soon enough. Not much unlike Death Eaters.

The redhead forced a smile and turned to his wife. "You know what? Let's just forget all of it and enjoy the party. We're sort of late, Harry may be here already."

"We wouldn't be running this late in the first place if you had only bought the Floo powder, as you were supposed to." the woman complained.

"Oi! I said I was sorry, will get it tomorrow. Besides, I'm sure I can find a way to make it up to you." Ron answered with a teasing smile.

Hermione's cheeks got slightly redder, "Oh shut up, we're here already."

"Yes ma'am," Ron said with a huge grin as Hermione rolled her eyes.

The air around them rippled with their next step, as a huge transparent piece of fabric. Before they could blink twice, a rickety-looking house seemed to blossom out of the solid ground. It was several stories tall, with each one of them balanced precariously on top of the other, looking as if they could all fall at any moment. Everyone called that house the _Burrow_ , it had been the home of Ron when he was younger, now only his parents lived there.

Odd noises coming from the garage, which could only mean Ron's father was trying to figure out how to make a muggle bike fly. They had their hands full though, so they didn't stop before the front door. A woman with short brown hair answered the bell there, she was drying her hands on a dishcloth, barely minding the flying potato being grated behind her back.

"Oh Ron, Hermione! It's been a while, come on in."

"Thanks, Audrey, is Harry here yet?" asked Hermione.

"No, we're only waiting for him now. As a warning, Ginny's not happy."

"Shocking," Ron said in his best ironic voice, earning a look from his wife.

Ginny was usually an easygoing person, however, when her temper got the better out of her, one had to steer clear. Ron knew it first-hand from growing up with her so he was always cautious around his little sister, especially now that she was pregnant.

It was a bit over a year since Harry and Ron's sister got married, so she was Ginny Potter now. Sometimes though, even Harry could get on the wrong side of her temper, making Ron feel torn between being amused or worried about his best mate.

As they went inside, Ron frowned. He had expected Harry to be there. It had taken too bloody long already, what the hell were they even asking him?

The familiar coziness of the Burrow was soon all around them. Even though its furniture was quite old, it was amazingly comfortable as well. It was almost the same as when Ron lived there, only that most of the portraits of Ron and his siblings were behind grandkids' photos now.

At the kitchen, Andromeda Tonks, an old friend of the family, was chopping carrots. Fleur Weasley was helping her, she was the wife of Ron's eldest brother, Bill. The younger woman had given birth to a couple of the Weasley grandkids already and had a third one in the way. Ron couldn't remember when the new Weasley was due, to him, it looked as if it could come out any moment now.

The Weasleys were a large family, with its fair share of kids and pregnant women. Ron knew his mother couldn't be happier about it.

Hermione and Ron had been thinking of growing the family as well, yet they were going to wait a year or so. Hermione was just moving to her new job at the _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_ , now working more closely with the Minister of Magic. Ron had asked if she would be able to handle the new job and a pregnancy at the same time but Hermione had seemed quite confident of it, even excited.

"Hey, Mum."

"Ron? Weren't you two supposed to come by Floo?" asked Ron's mother, barely looking away from the stove.

"Err, yeah. We're kind of short on powder, need to get some," answered Ron while Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Hi dear, you brought the trifle," said Ron's mother as soon as she noticed Hermione.

"Of course, I hope it's enough," Hermione said, laying the dessert on the table, "Need an extra wand?"

Ron's mother accepted the help gratefully. Fleur offered her help also but Ron's mother was having none of it, she didn't want Fleur doing any kind of large effort so far into her pregnancy.

As Ron made his way to the garden, he found Hermione's eyes. Ron knew she was still worried, still thinking about that bloody thing at the Ministry. He wished he could take all her nervousness away with a magic spell or the like. Things were rarely as simple as he would like them to be though.

Outside, a large tent was being raised by Ron's brothers. There, Angelina and Ginny were levitating the last pieces of cutlery into place, both women were pregnant but nowhere near Fleur's condition.

His brother Charlie was not there, but Ron hadn't expected him to be. The second to eldest Weasley brother was working in Romania and he couldn't be around for every birthday, still, he came by every season with his hands full of presents.

Ron dropped the wrapped boxes by the gift table, noticing how packed it was this time. It only made sense, as they were celebrating not only Percy but Ginny and one of Bill's daughters as well.

"Thought you were with Harry," said Bill once Ron had finished greeting everybody.

"No, my hearing was yesterday. Guess they wanted to leave Harry for the very end. They're not mad enough to think he had something to do with it."

"They didn't have to do it. It's stupid," complained Ginny, her arms crossed over her chest.

"They had to, it's the procedure." tried Percy, but all he earned from that was a nasty glare from their sister.

"How's the questioning? Found anything useful yet?" Angelina, George's wife, asked. The dark-skinned woman was sporting a hair-style way shorter than Ron ever remembered her having during her Hogwarts years.

"Not really. Everything is strung up at the office, even Redfern is being questioned."

"The Head Auror?"

Bill nodded, "An escape from Azkaban is no small matter, especially when former Death Eaters were released. People might start arguing about defences, they might even mention dementors."

"Rubbish! People escaped with dementors too." George argued.

"No one wants them back, I reckon. It's just a political play on Kingsley," said Percy.

"But, dementors? Are they off their trolleys?"

George put an arm around Angelina, "Of course they are, my dearest, it's politics."

"Oi!" protested Percy, who aimed to pursue a political career.

It didn't take long for Ron's father to arrive. Little Teddy Lupin was there with bright blue hair, as a _metamorphmagus_ he could change his appearance at will. Bill's daughters, Victoire and Dominique, came to the garden running after him. At her young age, Dominique already moved with the grace of her mother and older sister. Percy's only daughter, Molly, was the youngest of the lot so she was enjoying the ride on her grandfather's arms.

Teddy was asking about the garden gnomes, which made Ron remember the raccoon. His father was just wondering who could know good repelling charms when George chipped in, apparently, he was using animal hair for one of his current projects and took the kids on a raccoon hunting mission, which they saw as the greatest of adventures.

George owned a very successful joke shop, Ron used to help him up on weekends but the job at the office had kept him rather busy lately. A few weeks ago, George even offered him a full-time job, which Ron had thought about taking more than once. It would certainly lessen Hermione's worries and had the perk of being the least boring gig in the world. Maybe he could use the career change.

It was not until an hour later, once everyone was at the table, that Harry arrived. Teddy, who was sitting by his grandmother Andromeda, rushed to him at once. As the boy's godfather, Harry kept a very close relationship with Teddy. The boy always looked up to him and asked him about his adventures as an Auror.

"I promise, I'll make the Patronus later. Now, I'm starving!" Harry was telling Teddy as they approached the table.

Ginny reached them and, after mussing Teddy's hair up, she gave Harry a quick kiss. She seemed more relaxed now. "Then you should've brought your arse here sooner, Mister."

"Would have done that if I could." Harry smiled widely and went to greet everybody. He couldn't hide his serious look from Ron though. The redhead would surely hear more about it later.

Nevertheless, it was easy for Ron to take a break from all of that once he saw the food. Her mother had made a wide variety of dishes, which Ron was eager to get his hands on. Audrey's cookery knowledge was limited to very few recipes, still, she made an outstanding stew as well. The decoration on the table looked proper posh, courtesy of Fleur, who kept complaining that it was the only thing they let her help with.

All in all, it was a typical Weasley meeting, with upbeat stories from Ginny and Ron's father, for the kids' sake. Ron was enjoying the party, he took a break from his heated Quidditch discussion with Angelina to put a tender kiss on Hermione's hand, who rewarded him with a warm smile.

"Let's open presents!" Teddy hurried.

Victoire was staring at the gift table in awe. Having inherited the golden hair from her mother, the little girl was the first non-red haired Weasley in generations, but the several freckles on her face were undeniably from this side of the family.

"How many are there, Teddy?" she asked.

"I don't know, hundreds! Like thirty-seven or thirty-nine!"

There were not that many, but still quite a lot. And that considering the Azkaban affair made of the reunion a family-only event.

Dominique was beaming as she opened her presents, little Molly as well since her father was carrying her as he opened his. Molly didn't know what a magical razor or a schedule book was but she enjoyed moving the wrapping around in any case. Dominique was just discovering her love for animals, so she was excited to receive a book from Hermione about a monkey visiting a muggle zoo. On the other hand, Bill gave Percy an amulet made of Brazilian snake fangs and it was a great opportunity for one of his stories. After all, who didn't want to hear about the travels of a curse-breaker in the jungle?

"Hey, is that a colour changing tie? Nice touch Ron."

"It was Hermione's idea. I was this close of getting Percy a talking suit, can you believe it?" next to Ron, Hermione was slightly amused.

"A talking suit? That doesn't sound very useful." Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"What did it say?" asked Mrs. Tonks, intrigued.

"All kinds of greetings, it even recognized the time of the day and weather! It was brilliant!"

Hermione was holding back a laugh, "It also called you Mrs. Redhead."

As laughter erupted, Ron argued back, "Oi! It was a cracking suit, not a mind reader!"

Ron's father couldn't hide his fascination though, "Hmm I think I might get one of those. You'll need to tell me where they sell them, son."

Ginny had her fair share of gifts as well, more baby things than Quidditch equipment this time but she looked happy all the same. Besides, she didn't need as much Quidditch stuff now that she had decided to leave it for good.

Dessert was announced soon enough and, of all people, George was the one who volunteered to fetch Hermione's trifle. He even served each slice himself.

"You didn't put anything in this, did you?" Hermione asked, cautiously.

Harry and Bill, who already had their forks in mid-air, stopped in their tracks. Audrey and Mrs. Tonks put theirs down.

"You hurt me, Hermione, I would never do something like that to you," replied George. Angelina's eyes switching between her husband and the trifle, suspicion written all over her face.

On previous parties, George had always found a way to play a trick on someone, usually Ron. One time he even made him blow confetti out of his mouth for a whole night. Ron was troubled. One part of him wanted to eat his wife's trifle, which he knew was delicious, but another side doubted.

Suddenly, Hermione grabbed her plate and swapped it with Ron's. "So, is it okay if I take Ron's? It's a smaller portion and I ate a lot already," she said, her brown eyes on George. Everyone knew George didn't have a problem pulling one on Ron but he would have to be mental to try something on Hermione.

"As you please, my dear sister-in-law."

Hermione took a bite, everyone staring, even Percy looked nervy. A whole minute passed and when nothing seemed to happen, the Weasleys relaxed and started eating. The trifle was harmless, or at least that was what Ron thought.

As soon as Ron grabbed a bite from what was supposed to be Hermione's slice, he got a weird feeling in his mouth, then an itch. When the redhead tried scratching his cheek he noticed something, hair, shedloads of it.

People were laughing, Angelina almost spilled her juice out of her nostrils.

"Woah! Wicked!" said Teddy.

The boy's grandmother had her eyes open wide, unable to look away from Ron, "Oh my..."

"What? What is it?" Ron was getting worried.

"George!" yelled their mother.

Fleur took pity on him, the french woman transfigured a tray into a proper mirror. That's when Ron saw the fur.

The redhead panicked, every spot on his face was covered with either grey or black fur, raccoon patterned. He knew what George's current project was now.

"You git! It's not funny." Ron protested. Ginny didn't seem to agree as she was having a hard time holding back the laughs. Not even Ron's frown could make her stop.

Hermione on the other hand was gobsmacked. "But, how did you—? When?"

George had the biggest grin ever. Not far away, Bill was pointing between them, "You— but what if she hadn't— She would've— Oh Merlin, that was bold!"

Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at George. The redhead man raised his arms in defeat, "It was Percy's idea!" he said at once.

"What? No! No! I barely helped him with the last part, it was him, I swear. I—"

Hermione flicked her wand at both of them as they closed their eyes. At first, it appeared as if she hadn't done anything, George and Percy looked confused.

"What? I don't feel any different," said George, but he did so with a high-pitched voice, almost as if he was some muggle cartoon talking. "Oi!" he said once he listened to himself.

Laughs returned to the table, including from Dominique who was now on Audrey's lap. Percy did too but in a high pitched tone. Even Harry, who surely had tons of things to deal with, was cheering loudly, barely able to contain himself.

"You know, I think it sounds better," said Audrey, just before turning to Angelina. "What do you think?"

Angelina's brow was furrowed, as in deep thought. Eventually, she sighed, faking frustration, "Nope, I give up. I don't know what you lot are going at but I just don't see a difference."

"Angelina!" the high-pitched tone of George complained.

Ron finally joined them after Teddy grew some grey fur himself, trying to match Ron's. Victoire was amused at Teddy's display and everyone else looked happy, as if nothing bad had ever happened to them. Among all the joyful faces, Ron was glad to see Hermione smiling as well, he didn't care he had as much fur as Crookshanks at the moment.

Looking at George and Percy laughing at their voices made Ron remember his deceased brother as well. Fred had been George's twin, and they always did those kinds of things together, at least his spirit remained with them in some way. Fred would be proud of those two. Despite it, Ron had to admit he would do almost anything to have the real Fred back at the table with them. A part of him even felt guilty for enjoying this without him.

George yielded soon enough, giving Ron an antidote. All the raccoon fur reduced into nothingness as Ron released a pleased sigh. Even then, Hermione didn't lift the voice spell on Ron's brothers.

"Hey! I can't go to work like this."

Percy squeaked scandalized, his glasses almost fell, "What are you talking about?! You work in a joke shop! I'm the one with the problem!"

As the party continued, people got used to Percy and George's voices. Teddy went to Harry and asked him for the Patronus, to which his godfather agreed joyfully. When the night came, George took the kids to prepare the fireworks. It was time for a serious talk.

It was a bloody shame to see the happy mood leave the table.

Harry talked about his hearing, he informed the investigations were now heading outside of the Auror Office so it was likely the questioning could reach Hermione, Percy, or even Ron's father.

"Are you sure they're Death Eaters?" asked Ron's father at some point.

Harry shrugged, "The surviving Aurors are too injured to answer questions. It seems so, no one knows for sure."

"But this is not like before, is it?"

"We don't think so, Molly. It's believed they are only a handful of them left, they were not that many."

"Any more news?" Percy asked in his high pitched voice, a few smirks lightened the mood. "Oh, come on Hermione!"

A few seconds before, Hermione had been properly sober, but that made her struggle to contain a laugh. She lifted the spell and Percy's voice returned to normal.

"Thanks."

Harry sighed, "As you all know, these men freed Dolohov and Rowle. It doesn't seem like they wanted anyone else, they went straight to their cells once inside."

Hermione still looked troubled, Ron knew she had her doubts. The massive explosion had taken place at the warden's office, precisely at the time people from the Department of Magical Transportation were carrying on an inspection. It was too strange to be a coincidence, even so, no reason had been found for Dolohov's buddies to attack the transportation workers.

Mrs. Tonk and Ron's mother turned to look at Teddy in the distance. Dolohov had killed Teddy's father and the kid was left without knowing his parents. Harry looked unsettled.

"Poor child." Ron's mother muttered.

No one said anything more about the topic since not even Harry had much more information to share.

Ron held his wife's hand, trying to reassure her, and she rested her head on his shoulder for a while. Ron saw Harry putting an arm over his sister's shoulder as well, they were whispering to one another.

George eventually returned and the fireworks started. Soon everyone was in a better mood, or at least it appeared so. The fireworks were fantastic and not only the kids were in awe. George always found a way to best himself and a colourful figure of a flying Quidditch player in the sky was a way to do it.

"What about me?" George asked when he noticed Percy talking with his normal voice.

"You could use the voice a little longer," Angelina said, smirking.

"Awww! Angelina!"

Later on, as they were cleaning and picking up the remains of the party, George gave away some free samples of his products. Ron took a few classic _Ton-Tongue Toffes_ and also some _Party Blasters_ , which were those little purple sweets that made you barf confetti. He didn't want to say it yet but if he was going to consider that job offer he might as well start giving a closer look at the goods.

Ron had to give that offer a more serious thought. It was a good opportunity but he didn't want to let Harry down at the job either, his friend was counting on him.

Once the night fell, everyone headed back to the house, Ginny and Angelina arguing loudly about the upcoming Quidditch league games on their way back. So, when Hermione found herself alone with Ron and Harry, she dragged them all the way to the other side of the tent, near the broom shed. It appeared as if it was only Bill who noticed, even so, he continued talking with his father and George.

"Do you know?" Hermione asked Harry in a low voice, not giving him a chance to even ask what all of that was about.

"Know what?" he asked startled.

Hermione turned to her husband, "Have you told him?"

Ron was equally surprised, it took him a moment to understand what she meant. He shook his head.

His wife released a breath, heavily, "Look, Harry, what I'm about to tell you is very sensitive information. It shouldn't be passed around and I didn't want to worry Ginny or the others."

"Hermione, you're scaring me. What is it?" Harry said cautiously, looking at Ron.

With her usual fast pace, Hermione let the whole thing out at once.

"There's something at the Ministry right now, not even Kingsley knows about it, but I'm afraid that whoever attacked Azkaban might. You see, I've been working with some Unspeakables, they looked for me after my speech on the Time-Turners and—"

"Wait, Time-Turners?"

Hermione nodded, she was uneasy, "Saul Croaker was who looked for me. It's an old project of his, he made it to understand time itself, or so it seems. There was a breakthrough though, unexpected. After using my theories on it, Croaker noticed different capabilities on the device."

Harry adjusted his glasses, "I don't think I'm following you, Hermione. What's this device? Why is it so important?"

"Don't look at me, I asked the same questions," Ron answered the stares his best mate was throwing at him, he knew where this was going. Ron found his feet suddenly interesting. He was not sure how his friend was going to react to Hermione's words.

"A _window_ ," Hermione said at last. "I haven't seen it but that's how Unspeakable Croaker refers to it. I have made a few calculations, wild guesses. Hypothetically speaking, this window could allow a person to time travel years into the future, or into the past, I'm not entirely sure."

Harry moved a few steps away, thinking Hermione's words through. His reaction was of concern and certainly quieter than what Ron's had been. The redhead remembered almost toppling over once he made sure Hermione was not taking the mickey out of him.

On the other side of the garden, Ron's father had noticed them. In a way, it felt familiar to be having hidden conversations just the three of them, in another it felt completely different. They had done this before to save their lives, now Ron was in this because it was his job, and he was going to keep doing it for as long as he was an Auror. Did he really want to do this for the rest of his life?

"You're talking about actual time travel. For years." Harry finally said, "That's— are you sure?"

Hermione nodded. "Positive. Croaker has it under control now, or so he says. However, it poses a great danger. You know what this means, right? This could alter the very outcome of the war!"

"I understand as much, yes. Yet I'm still not sure how this could reach the wrong ears." Silence fell on the three of them. Harry looked troubled as he moved his eyes between his oldest friends. "If I get this correctly, you are implying an Unspeakable could be giving away information?" Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

"You think there's a rat at the Auror Office, they could get an Unspeakable as well. It doesn't even have to be Saul Croaker, he doesn't work alone."

"It's not the same, Hermione. Since the war, the Department of Mysteries has been more secretive, you know that. Most people don't even know the identities of the Unspeakables anymore. This would need at least as much inside knowledge as Voldemort had and that's— If it were true, then, I can't even measure the impact on the Ministry."

"It's possible."

"Do you have any proof?"

Ron threw Hermione a sad look, he knew everything was merely guesses. Above them a cloud was passing by, for a while they were covered in the sober silence of the dark.

"No, but, we didn't have this— this window at the Department of Mysteries during the previous attacks. Previous attacks weren't even as successful for them as this was. Then there's the whole explosion, the first one, a rather blurry situation if you ask me. I have a bad feeling. It's not about if this is probable or not, it's about the damage it could cause!"

It was obvious she had lost Harry at ' _No_ '.

Harry exchanged some weird looks with Ron. "I understand, I do, but..." he let out a tired sigh, he looked knackered, "I don't know Hermione."

Ron's blue eyes were set on his concerned wife, all he wanted to do was to be able to put all of her worries and problems away. Instead, the situation was growing as the fur had grown on his face after the trifle.

"Harry, mate, why don't we keep an eye open? Just in case. Maybe check if this Croaker has been talking to anyone lately?" he offered.

Harry didn't look sure, still, he nodded. "I guess it wouldn't hurt, especially with the new arrangements."

"What new arrangements?"

"Redfern is setting up regular night guards for at least a month or so. He wants the two of us to start at the Ministry, a week from now, once the emergency teams go back to their regular schedules. Someone convinced him that St Mungo's and Diagon Alley already have too many wands. He says he needed his best men on the place with the fewer Aurors."

Whatever Hermione planned to get from that conversation, it was surely not this, "Fewer Aurors?"

Harry nodded. "Don't worry, they would be mad if they thought of attacking the Ministry. We might have fewer wands but the defences on that place are impenetrable. I would have personally preferred to be at St Mungo's, it would be very bad if they hit there." He didn't look happy with the decision.

"But— the rat?"

"If he exists, he doesn't know about those defences, don't think so. Everything was reinforced after the attack, very few people know. Besides, it would require a lot of strength to go fast through those defences. They don't have those numbers from what I've heard."

Hermione looked gutted and, for some reason, Ron was getting a very bad feeling as well. He was not very excited about having the night shift either.

Nothing more was said about it. Harry was Redfern's right hand and had a lot on his head, maybe he was right and things were under control. However, when Ron saw Hermione more concerned than ever, he couldn't keep from worrying himself.

He hugged her as he placed a small kiss on her forehead. "It's alright. I know how to take care of myself and, if he's with me, Harry has nothing to fear."

Hermione gave him a weak smile, which didn't reach her eyes.

Everything was okay, Ron had to believe that. Life was perfect. They had beaten Voldemort and there was no way that they could face something worse at the Ministry. Soon they would be laughing about it and thinking of having a new Weasley kid themselves. Harry and Ron were trained Aurors, experienced, two of the best in the entire country. Everything was going well.


	3. The Note From No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron arrives to his night shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with those valuable advice.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. Enjoy.

As it was most common, Ron had a dreamless sleep, only that this time it was not as long as he would have wanted. He was woken up by an endless twinkling and whizzing, it was causing quite an uproar and he had to press his eyes shut to ignore the light.

Ron groaned, then turned about, noticing how empty his bed felt tonight. Against all odds, he tried to ignore the noisy light coming to him, and he might have succeeded if it weren't for a different sound that came then. A steady knock on the door.

"Ron? Are you awake yet?" came the low voice of his wife.

"Err-ahh?" Ron mumbled, not even taking his cheek away from the pillow.

"It's time. Come on, get up," she said, coming into the room.

Ron raised his head slowly, barely opening his eyes. The blinking light on his nightstand hit him hard. "Bloody alarm," he grumbled, grabbing the old muggle alarm clock that his father had given him on his last birthday.

"Come on Ron, I told you to go to bed earlier, didn't I?" Hermione said, sitting on the bed next to him. She was already in her night robe, though it was clear she hadn't come to bed yet. "If you hurry up you can still grab a nosh before leaving."

The mere mention of food seemed to bring Ron back to life. He sat up and gave his wife a weak smile. "You know, I just decided that I hate night shifts."

"This is your first one, now get up, you won't want to be late."

Before leaving the room, Hermione leaned towards Ron and kissed him. The young man smiled and caressed her cheek, then she was gone. Ron made a troll-sized effort to rise and sit heavily on his side of the bed, rubbing his face furiously with both hands, trying to stay awake.

The bedroom was a pretty neat place. Even when it was not as orange as Ron would have liked, it had a warm feeling to it. Hermione didn't allow any Quidditch posters in the bedroom either, still, Ron had found a place for them in other parts of the house. The bed faced the door directly and had small nightstands on either side of it, however, the first thing that always caught Ron's attention was the slim bookcase next to the door, which was just as packed as the bigger ones in the study. Ron couldn't understand why Hermione needed it, she said that it was only light reading for the nights but Ron knew perfectly well she also kept plenty of heavy stuff to read in that nightstand of hers. On the other hand, Ron's nightstand only had clothes, some pictures and the occasional Quidditch magazine. There was also the old muggle clock his father had insisted on bewitching to behave as an alarm clock. As if a regular muggle clock couldn't do the same thing, and without the blinding lights and the pesky noises at that.

It was already quarter past ten, Ron noticed.

He made his way to the bathroom, taking care of not stepping over Crookshanks. The old cat was not woken up by the loud alarm, the lucky ball of fur.

Fully dressed and ready for work, Ron met his wife at the table. There were some leftovers from earlier on his plate, which made Ron remember once more that it was still Sunday. He had gone to bed not even three hours ago, in the hope that the brief kip would prepare him for the night shift. It didn't seem like Hermione had left the table while he slept through. She was still going through the Azkaban reports, with a cup of muggle coffee next to her.

Over the years Ron had grown used to her way of keeping track of every little detail and pressing issue. Ron's relaxed nature meant they bickered because of it from time to time, but often it was more playful banter than anything serious. To be honest, at times Ron did it on purpose since Hermione's face when she realized he was just teasing her was the most endearing thing in the world for him.

Ron enjoyed seeing her ramble about her next big project or how she was going to solve some glaring problem with the magical society. Some other times, when she was as lost in her thoughts as she was now, Ron had to stare in silence and wonder what was going on in that beautiful mind of hers. Hermione was meant to achieve the greatest of things, to change everything for the better, not to lose herself dwelling in worries.

"You should leave that and go to bed, there's nothing in there that we don't know already," Ron said as he sat down.

Hermione answered without looking up, she had gone through every little detail in those reports already, Ron knew, "I have my doubts. The ministry workers, from the Transportation Office, I have a feeling they're the key. The explosion was for them."

"Again with that? Fawley thinks there's nothing to them. They just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. You should just drop that rubbish."

Grim Fawley was the researcher who most closely worked with Ron at the office. He had a desk job, nothing that required him to ever go out on the field. He was a few years younger than Ron as well, recently out of training. Nevertheless, Fawley was talented and Ron had to recognize the bloke was more usually right than not.

"Honestly, Ron, I have been going at this for hours, and you just come here and dismiss all of it as if— as if there's nothing I can possibly find that they haven't seen at the office already. As if my work is rubbish, you say."

Ron was caught off guard, "I didn't say that."

"Well, it certainly seemed so."

"Not in that way."

"In which way then?"

Ron let out a long breath. He usually rushed words without thinking about how they might sound to other people, which often caused more than a few rows with Hermione. He knew he had to control those impulses, but at least he could tell now how to fix his mistakes. "I think you're ten times better than Grim Fawley, or any other researcher at the office for that matter," he said, without a hint of doubt on his voice. "But I don't want you to keep doing this. By Merlin, I don't like to see you worried."

The gesture on Hermione relaxed as if realizing she might have overreacted. She put a hand over her husband's hand and spoke in a softer tone, "I know Ron, of course I do, but I want to help. I love you. I don't want to think something could happen to you, something that I could've prevented."

It all came back to that it seemed. His Auror job. This was a complicated time for sure, but it was hardly going to be the last time Ron was in this situation. As long as he was an Auror he was going to be in danger, and his job was not supposed to be Hermione's burden.

"I love you too. But this is my job, not a school mystery we have to solve. You can't go about doing your job and solving each one of my cases at the same time. You'll go nuts!"

Hermione let out a sigh in defeat, "You're right, I should trust this to you and Harry. It's just that—"

"We'll figure it out, eventually. And just so you know, I do appreciate your effort here..." Ron said as he moved through the papers and pictures Hermione had arranged.

He went on, eating and reading at the same time, putting extra attention on the workers' files. There was a young woman named Aster Prince, maybe a far relative from Snape who had the fortune of not looking anything like the late teacher. There was also Tobias Bosley, an old fireplace maintenance worker. Two other workers had been caught in the explosion as well, more victims to these attackers.

"Do you think I can present some of this as my work and look a tad smarter at the office?" Ron said, once he was done with his plate.

Hermione let go of a small chuckle, "This isn't school, remember? I organized and put some notes, but I didn't write anything formally."

"Blimey, old habits I guess. I reckon I can just go about these maintenance workers and let Fawley take it from there. He'll probably say the workers were just doing some routine repairs, though. They weren't _high-profile_ , after all."

Hermione's expression turned serious, and her eyebrow lowered just barely. "Actually, I think that's important." she said as if an idea just came to her. She moved briskly through the pages looking for something.

"What is it?"

"They being _low-profile_ , as you said. Here!" Ron's wife found the right page and showed it to Ron, it was a schedule. "The repair visit was programmed months ahead, there was no way the attackers didn't know that, they seemed to have everything else planned. Also, look, Benedict Quirke was set to be in Azkaban next week, in an official visit to the warden. The Head of Law Enforcement, very high-profile, would you say?"

"So?" asked Ron as his eyes went through the schedule.

"So why didn't they wait? Why do this during a visit of a maintenance worker when they could have done it with the Head of a Department there?"

Ron got her point but still, it didn't feel like this was a lead, "Dunno, but does it matter? They died, if there was a dodgy business with them, well, it's done."

"Unless they're alive."

Ron stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was joking, "Hermione... are you—"

"See this."

Hermione handed Ron a criminal profile, one of a thin man with a dark mustache and a wicked smile. He had read of this man already, he was said to be one of the few men capable of pulling out an explosion as the one that took place in Azkaban. Last week Harry had brought the man's name along with some other suspects.

Before Ron could go deep into that file again, Hermione was quick in pointing out the parts she found relevant, "Garvan Ferrara, American and a known fugitive. The Italians are looking for him for several accounts of arson. They say, and I quote, _'Ferrara is as skilled as he is dangerous. Beware, he can bring down a building with little effort as well as vanish from thin air in a rush of fake flames'_. Remember the purple flames from first year? Someone like Ferrara can surely master a thing like that, on a large scale. What if these people were not killed but transported elsewhere? A setup?"

"Hermione, I'm going to stop you there before the fake bodies argument comes. This sounds mental! You know that right? Are you listening to yourself? Why would they want to kidnap a simple fireplace worker who—"

"Who knows everything about the Floo network? Including the fireplaces at the Ministry?" Hermione crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow.

The silence took over as Ron considered his wife's words. Then he stood up and looked at their own fireplace, rubbing his forehead. Yes, it was true that if the fireplace worker was alive all of this could make sense, but the theory seemed so far-fetched, and simply mad...

"It's probably nothing," Hermione allowed as she joined Ron, holding his hand, "I think I might be wrong here, but I get the feeling I'm close to something. This is the only lead I have found so far and you lose nothing by looking at the man's office. Most likely he is truly dead, however, that doesn't mean you can't still find something there."

It took only a moment for Ron to sigh and nod, "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't hurt. We did promise to take a look around."

"Thank you," Hermione said, more relaxed. She placed a kiss on Ron's lips and removed a few crumbles away from his jacket.

"I'm warning you though, we're not likely to find anything there. The only stories I've heard about night shifts are dead boring." Ron said, trying to smile.

"That would be nice. Boring is good."

Precisely then, the fireplace burst into green flames. Ron and Hermione barely turned their heads to look at it.

"Thought to give you a wake-up call." Harry's voice echoed throughout the house as his face appeared between the green flames, right inside the fireplace.

"As you can see I'm up and ready to go."

"Hermione's doing, isn't it?" A smile was visible on Harry's image.

"Oi!"

Ron's wife was grinning. "Partially. Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Hermione, hope you get a good rest, you still have plenty of hours left," Harry's head said and then turned to look at Ron. "See you in five?"

Ron nodded, and the green flames disappeared at once, the fireplace was back to normal.

"Take care."

"I don't have anything to worry about. I would be more scared if I had to deal with those shifty bureaucrats you see every day."

"Your brother is one of them."

"Well more reason to be careful," said Ron smiling, he leaned close to her and kissed her tenderly. "Love you."

"I love you too, Ron," Hermione answered warmly.

At the chimney, Ron grabbed a handful of Floo powder and turned to his wife. "It's great Mum always has some extra around, bet the main entrance is dead cold at this hour."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile. "Next time don't forget it."

With that, Ron threw the powder into the fireplace, and the green flames were back, covering him entirely. " _The Ministry of Magic_ ," he said out loud, and he saw the image of his wife slowly fading away through the flames. As she disappeared, Ron got a weird feeling. He had seen her saying goodbye to him plenty of times but this was not the same. His wife's face reflected fear and worry and for some reason, Ron got the instant sensation that he shouldn't have left her. It was too late for call in sick though and soon the image before Ron changed.

Ron hadn't seen the Ministry's Atrium so empty in years, it didn't even look like the same place anymore. The whole black wooden floor was visible and it had no signs of the ton of people who were surely going to walk over it in a few hours. The peacock blue ceiling filled with its golden symbols matched in some twisted way with the floor too, it gave a dismal glow to the whole scene. Ron got the feeling that only sinister things could happen there, especially since it didn't look much different now from how he saw it at the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts.

The monument in the middle of the hall was different this time though.

It was an enormous landmark. Two big walls of polished black obsidian met at an open angle, facing the entrance of the hall, only a small gap separated them from one another. They were filled with golden engravings all across their black surface, and even when they were not entirely readable from the distance Ron knew perfectly well what they said. Those were the names of all the people who had died in the war, or at least all of those they knew about. The structure had been placed shortly after the war ended, to remind everyone of what they had lost. It was named _Memory of Our Fallen Ones_ , or something like that, but everyone just called it _The Black Memorial_. The name gave it a sense of fatality that fit with its purpose.

A person was standing in front of the memorial, his back was to Ron but it couldn't be anybody else.

Harry was a few feet away from the black curtains, admiring them with a blank expression. Ron could understand him, he must have passed by it a thousand times now but there was not a single time he didn't stop to stare at it. Not even when Ron walked to his side, Harry looked away from the monument. His green eyes kept moving to a lot of different places on it. Ron knew those places and had known the people who had owned those names, and yet, his blue eyes were always attracted to one single spot at the lower left side of the right wall.

Ron sighed, thinking of his brother once more.

"You know," Harry suddenly said, taking Ron by surprise, "Sometimes I feel like they are here and not at Godric's Hollow."

Harry was staring at the base of the memorial, where a pedestal in the middle of the two walls was holding a golden plaque. Above it, at the small portion where the two walls met, two names seemed to catch more attention than any other.

The Potters have been dead for over twenty years now, Ron knew Harry remembered them only in dreams. They died defending Harry when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby, it was a vile action that ultimately resulted in the evil wizard's downfall. It was that event that had marked all of Harry's life. He was and will always be _The Chosen One_ , _The Boy Who Lived_.

"I'm not following you mate," Ron said, quite puzzled.

"What I mean is... I know they are at Godric's Hollow, there I feel something I don't feel at any other place. I really connect with them." Harry started, then he moved his round shaped glasses a little.

"But," he continued with a grim gesture, "this is what they always were for me and everyone else. It's very hard sometimes to think about them without remembering _him_."

The names of the Potters, shining golden on the black walls of the Memorial, seemed to draw Ron to them. He imagined for a moment what would it be like, to never have met his parents. Compared to all those years Ron had spent with his parents, what did Harry have?

"There's the album mate and tons of stories. You have memories, letters, things from the vault, stuff." Ron answered sadly.

"I know, but still, that's what they are, things. They should be here, they would have loved to meet their grandchild."

That was something Ron couldn't deny. He was not very good at this, however he had lost someone too, he knew what to say.

"They're here mate, somewhere. Maybe your dad is hoping your boy doesn't end up being a gloomy prat as you are. You're kind of a git sometimes too. I reckon the kid will turn up alright, mind you."

Harry showed his first smile since Ron arrived, "Thanks."

After putting an arm over his old friend, Ron said "Guess it won't be too hard to pick a name now."

Harry nodded. Ron was thinking how much of Hermione's theory could he share with Harry without being called mad or if he should tell him now. However, it was Harry who took him by surprise.

"There are problems, Ron," his friend said soberly, it was as if a shadow had returned to the young man's thoughts, "Some of our guys think they tracked messages, they believe an attack in St. Mungo's is being planned."

"St. Mungo's?!" Ron reacted in shock.

"I didn't want to say it at the party for obvious reasons. It's unclear if this is real or not, either way, we have to be careful."

"You're taking the mickey on me, aren't you? If this is true, why are we even here?" Ron looked back to the fireplaces, wondering how much time it would take them to reach St. Mungo's.

"I argued with Marcus, told him I wanted to be in St. Mungo's. You know Redfern though, he seems confident everything is going to be fine. He wants us here to coordinate and he really said he wants his best wands where he has fewer numbers."

For a moment Ron didn't know what to say, with every second that passed he was feeling more certain that something was not right. As if he just kept getting endless notices that something bad was about to happen. Hermione's words kept coming back to him too, "What if it's a smokescreen, to hit somewhere else?"

"I know where you're going."

"Hermione's always right mate. I have a bad feeling."

"I do too, but I am the head Auror's most trusted man. I cannot ask Redfern for more men here when an attack is feared at St. Mungo's." Harry answered, visibly troubled, "What if I ask for more men and they attack over there? How would that turn out?"

Ron didn't know what to say. His friend was right and he wouldn't want to be in his position, taking decisions like that had never been Ron's strong trait. The redhead raised his eyes to the blue ceiling, the place felt cold and so void of answers. Whoever designed the Ministry should have thought about making it less sombre, maybe some orange would have helped.

The two friends continued walking towards the building, where they greeted a few Aurors who were patrolling. Everything seemed to be in order. It only made Ron more uneasy, it was way too calm.

After walking through most of the Atrium, a tall and muscular man approached them. He was in his forties and had a tough blond beard, proper of a man of action.

"Nice to have you two around," he said.

"It will only be a few days, we're glad to be here too," Harry answered. "Any news?"

The man shook his head. "Everything's calm, as usual."

"Good to know Turner."

Harry and Ron were already heading to the left-wing of the building to check on the defences when the man called them back. "Hey, Potter?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, I was just wondering, have they found him yet?"

"Who?" Ron asked.

"The man who gave them information."

Harry looked grim. "I'm afraid we don't know anything about that yet. It could be anyone, it could also be that there was no man and the attackers just found a different way of getting their information."

Ron wondered if his friend really thought there was no rat. Probably he was just being cautious.

"The boys are saying Pucey has looked distracted and worried for a few days now. Smith and Leavestone were quite nervous during the audiences too, I've heard," said Turner as if it was a casual comment.

Ron was a bit surprised. Although by the hard look Harry gave the man, it was clear his friend was pretty much aware of those rumours. "That's mere gossip, nervousness is not proof of anything."

Turner sobered, the man surely had friends at Azkaban and wanted to see things solved quickly. Ron wanted that as well but he knew Harry wouldn't go after someone without rock-solid evidence.

"Veritaserum could clear things up faster than you can say Quidditch," Ron proposed.

"You know we can't push for that without solid evidence, and it wouldn't stand in a trial either way."

Both Ron and Turner nodded, the man with the blond beard continued his way.

As they moved forward, Ron glanced at his best mate. Harry had changed a lot after the war. Even when Ron's friend had always been the one making the decisions, he was different now. Harry had acquired strong confidence in himself and everyone saw him as a natural leader, even Aurors way older than they were. There were even some rumours putting Harry as Head of the Office once Redfern retired, which could make him the youngest person ever holding that post.

Ron smiled at the thought, his best mate was perfect for the job. It will have to happen eventually, if not after Redfern then later. Of course, Ron could be there being the right-hand to the Head of the Auror Office, which was no small feat either.

Out of nowhere, Ron's smile faded a bit. After hearing George's offer, the idea of life as an Auror had been losing its appeal to him, especially after his earlier exchange with Hermione. Ron had followed Harry to the department once the war ended, but the circumstances seemed to be changing.

Unfortunately, Ron couldn't think of leaving just yet, not until they dealt with their current problem. The redhead had been dreading the moment when he would have to share Hermione's theories with Harry, but it had to be done sooner or later.

After checking the Atrium, they went into the building, heading to the Auror Office at level two. Finding himself alone with Harry, Ron turned to him before reaching the lift, he was hardly going to find a better moment and was better to be done with it.

"Err, mate, do you think we can spare a moment to check some other place before going to the office?"

Harry was taken aback, "What place?"

Ron sighed, "The Floo Network Office."

For the next half hour or so, Harry and Ron went through every little detail in a small maintenance office belonging to the Floo Network Authority. It was the place where Tobias Bosley, the old fireplace maintenance employee at the Azkaban explosion, used to work.

The office was grey, it had a low ceiling and a modest desk. In the end, a rickety fireplace was off, likely to be used for testing purposes. Harry and Ron turned through every file and folder there, checked for anything that had changed since the last inspection and even threw every unconcealing charm they knew around the place. Nothing suspicious was found, nothing the initial report had not told them already. Ron was not sure if that lessened his worry or not.

"There's nothing Ron," said Harry at last, after checking behind the portrait of some old witch who wore a headdress which resembled two horns, "I can't believe you brought me here for this, but we did check. There's nothing."

Ron nodded, at least they tried. He had finished looking over the old fireplace, he hadn't found anything interesting either. They did check everything, even a brown hat rack with only a couple of hats on it. The whole office had nothing that seemed dodgy or even exciting. The only exciting thing around were the _Party Blasters_ that Ron had taken from George at the party and just realized he still had in his pockets.

"You know," Ron said, "Of all the raids to haunted houses, suspicious rooms and evil wizard lairs, this is by far the most boring one we have done. Isn't there an inspection of the Malfoys house scheduled this week or something?"

Being the professional Auror he was, Harry tried to avoid a laugh, but had a hard time doing it. He adjusted his glasses, rubbing his face a bit, then he looked right at Ron's eyes. It took a few seconds before he spoke.

"I'm really going to miss you," he said.

"Miss me? What do you mean?"

"At work, once you take George's offer."

Ron opened his mouth and yet no word came out, he wasn't aware Harry knew of the offer.

"George came to me before he asked you." said Harry, "He wanted my approval of sorts."

"I should've known. Well, I haven't said yes."

"Not sure why. It's perfect for you." Harry argued, "Look, Ron, this job is what moves me. I can't stand back and let someone else go through what happened to me, what happened to Teddy. I'm good at it and I like it here, to feel I'm doing my part. Ginny understands that. This is not you though. You, as some of the others, wouldn't even have even joined if it weren't for that final battle. Neville knew it and left as soon as he could. I've seen you out there, you have the skills but it's about time you realized this is not what you want."

 _The git_. How was he so sure of what he wanted? Ron took a moment to think and, for the first time, he thought what it would mean to leave the Aurors for good, not return to this place every day, not to go out hunting for evil wizards and surrounded by wicked spells. He could still hear that voice sometimes, the locket's that was. Each time they were looking for a hexed item on a dodgy house, Ron imagined what it would be like to find another _Horcrux_ , one that they had missed before. Honestly, that scared the crap out of him.

Harry was right, he should have taken George's offer the moment he mentioned it to him. Hermione would be happier, he would be happier.

"I'll leave once we catch the Azkaban men, mate," Ron said after a slow nod.

Harry shook his head, "I want to see your resignation at the end of the shift. I'll talk it over with Redfern."

"Are you mental?! I can't leave now, not with them out there." Ron insisted.

"There will always be someone out there Ron. That's just the way it is. We will be fine."

Now that was unexpected. Ron didn't know this was going to be his last day as an Auror when he got out of home today. Maybe all the uneasiness he had felt earlier was for nothing.

It was uncommon yet he couldn't avoid hugging Harry then. _Sometimes endings were like that, like Quidditch, one moment you have your eyes dead set on the quaffle thinking the game will go on for hours and the next someone catches the snitch and it's time for the next game._

"Thanks, mate," he said.

As they left the room Ron asked something that came to him, "So, err-, mate, the fireplace worker. Does he still have permission to these fireplaces?"

Ron wasn't sure why he asked that, he thought their inspection of the small office had been clear enough. Harry raised an eyebrow but he answered either way.

"I guess so, they'll change those once the replacement arrives, maybe a week or so. He only had access to the main ones and the one we saw in his office."

Ron nodded, "So he wouldn't be able to get into Redfern's or Kingsley's offices?"

A look of concern appeared on Harry, "Ron, we just checked, I don't think that man is alive."

"I know, it's just that—" Ron was not sure what to say, but his conversation with Hermione kept coming back at him.

The redhead couldn't put his thoughts to words because at that moment a young man came rushing to them, one of the newest Auror recruits. Parker was his last name.

"Here you are! There's something you need to see sir," he told Harry, "We were waiting for you at the office, when you didn't arrive we went to look for you."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"When we got here tonight we saw the door of your office ajar, there was a note addressed to you on the desk."

Ron and Harry exchanged nervous looks.

"By the looks of it, I suppose it's not an invitation to some party, isn't it?" asked Ron.

"We wouldn't know, sir. The note is closed and stuck to the desk."

"Blimey! My last day and we have people sending you hexed messages." the redheaded told Harry.

Harry nodded, "Let's go."

Moments later they rushed out into the level two of the Ministry of Magic, Ernie McMillan was waiting for them just outside the lift. Their old classmate was glad to see them and lead them around the corner into the Auror Office. The place was filled with empty cubicles now. The maps and pictures in the walls seemed to be the only occupants of the room and Ron could see the clock there. They were scarce minutes away from September.

Harry and Ron stepped into the office, two more Aurors joined them announcing the same thing about the note on Harry's desk. They all went to the back of the place where the personal offices were located, all of them were closed except for Harry's. Inside, two other Aurors were trying to discover what spell was placed on that mysterious note.

"Any luck?" Ron asked as he stood in front of Harry's desk, there was a picture of his sister not far away.

"No sir," answered an Auror who seemed to be only a couple of years younger than Ron. It seemed like they didn't only have fewer numbers but also the less experienced ones as well.

"Who was the first one to see it?" Harry asked.

"I was." said the young Parker.

"Anything strange?"

"No sir, everything's in order."

"Did you see anyone leaving?"

"I crossed Adrian Pucey by the lift. He seemed quite scared," he answered, and Ron turned to look at Harry. His friend was surely finding it suspicious but didn't ask more about it.

"Let's get this done then," Harry said.

"Wait, mate! Are you grabbing that thing? It has ' _trap_ ' written all over it."

"Calm down Ron, surely the guys already performed all the basic detection spells and if anything happens I'm in a room filled with qualified Aurors, am I not?" Everyone nodded hesitantly.

Ron seemed doubtful. "I don't know Harry."

"It could be important. I won't wake up a curse-breaker to deal with a sticky note."

Without waiting a second more Harry did a couple of detection spells himself and, since he didn't find anything odd, he tried to lift the note. At the touch of his fingers, the note seemed willing to be raised. Nothing appeared to be wrong with it while Harry took it.

Slowly, Ron's friend moved his green eyes across the paper and the colour abandoned his face with each passing second. His eyes had grown big.

"What?" Ron asked. Harry didn't answer until he finished reading and put the paper in his pocket. He turned to the Atrium through the office windows, then back at Ernie.

"How many wands do we have?" he asked.

"Err, like, right now?" Ernie seemed taken by surprise. "Maybe ten in the building, another 5 outside. Mostly, trainees, night shift is usually the first task assigned to new recruits."

Harry looked at the young scared faces around him, "Keep five in the building, place them at the windows with the best view of the Atrium. At my signal, if I send it, call Redfern to bring backup. This could still be fake. Send them the rest with me to the Atrium,"

"Harry...?" Ron asked dumbfounded.

"Come with me," Harry said, exiting the office. "Ernie, you're in charge inside here. Remember, windows and main entrance primary points," he yelled on his way out while a pale Ernie nodded.

Five men to defend all entrance points and a few windows of a building as big as that one? Was he serious?

"Care to tell me what the hell was on that bloody paper?!" Ron said once they were on the lift.

"A warning, of an attack here."

Ron was surprised only slightly. "But you said the defences—"

"If the informant is telling the truth they won't matter," Harry looked dead serious, as he passed Ron the note, which didn't take long to get through.

The one who wrote the note made it clear he had been the rat for Azkaban and that he was sorry. He said what he had told the attackers before and also a hurried line about the attack to the Ministry that was apparently on the way. Through the fireplaces, around forty to fifty attackers. There was also a cryptic message saying that they were after something at the Ministry, something they needed to open and that might be related to a mirror.

"Blimey… Do you think that— What Hermione said—"

"I don't know," answered Harry.

Ron's head was spinning, this was too much. His blue eyes returned to the hurried note. In the end, the writer had the nerve to finish with _'When everything else fails, we still have hope.'_

He gritted his teeth, "Can you believe the prick?! It was Pucey, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't signed, but seems legit. He knows details about Azkaban that most people don't."

"So, you believe it?" Ron continued in a lower tone.

"I don't know what to think, but it's best to be prepared. The note says they attack at midnight. We have three minutes."

Then the lift ringed and they got to the Atrium level. Outside seven or eight young Aurors were waiting for them, some sent by Ernie. "Blimey! Ernie is quicker than I expected. These guys gave me a scare," Ron mumbled.

Harry gave him a half-smile and they all went out of the building at a fast pace. Ron turned back as they moved towards the Aurors on the Atrium, he saw Ernie's people already moving to the windows, he wished this was nothing but a false alarm. Boring was good, that was what Hermione had said.

Looking at the few Aurors they got and with the limited number of ways to get in or out of the Ministry, Ron realized how bad their position was if they couldn't rely on the magical defenses of the place. He felt as if in a faraway island, surrounded, out of reach of immediate backup.

If this note was true then it couldn't end well, fifteen men against fifty? not well at all. He thought the bloody attackers didn't have those numbers. Maybe the note was just a stupid prank. Maybe it was all a lie.

"What's this? What's happening?" Turner, the leader of the Atrium lads, asked when he saw them.

"We received a warning of an attack."

"What? Are you sure Potter? Where?"

"Here. Any moment now. I put people on the windows, we should prepare barricades facing the entrance." Harry said.

"This is madness!"

Poof.

It was the sudden sound of one of the fireplaces as the first dark figure came in.

Poof. Poof.

A second and a third came out. In the empty Atrium, the echo amplified the sound. As if a huge giant was knocking at the Ministry's doors.

Turner seemed shocked, so it was Harry who raised his voice. Without losing time, Ron and the lads sent by Ernie started lifting barricades.

"Everyone, listen to me, I need all of the Atrium defences by my side. Now." Harry's magnified voice echoed side by side with the fireplaces.

The Aurors scattered throughout the Atrium seemed confused by both the green flames and Harry's voice, still, they did as they were asked.

"Who are they? Is it the morning yet?" one said surprised.

"Don't be thick! It's barely midnight," another answered.

Ron didn't turn to Harry and kept raising the barricades. He was sweating and trying to remember the last time he saw Hermione. She was in her nightgown saying goodbye to him through the green flames of his chimney.

"This is not a drill, prepare your wands but don't fire yet." Harry's voice continued flooding the Ministry's Atrium, "Defence position. I repeat, don't engage until I give the order. This is not a drill!"


	4. The Keeper of the Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aurors defend the Ministry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with those valuable advice.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. Enjoy.

All hell broke loose in a second.

Moments before Harry had been asking to wait until he gave the order, then the intruders attacked and holding fire didn't make sense anymore. The first masked men had raised shields as soon as they arrived but the ones who followed attacked without asking questions, shooting all kinds of curses and hexes even before putting their second foot on the ground.

"The Barricades!" Harry shouted, tackling Turner to the ground as a purple beam passed just inches above them. Turner only thanked him with a weak nod, his eyes were wide. It was obvious it had been a long time since the blond man had any kind of action.

"Almost there!" Ron yelled as he raised big stone slabs from the left-wing of the Ministry towards the centre, in the direction of the Black Memorial. The young Auror who had found them in the Floo Network Office, Parker, was helping him.

Once the barricades were in place, Ron turned around, trying to understand the state of things under the blasting sounds and the spells racing over their heads. It was not good.

Harry was in the centre, shooting stunners from one side of the Memorial. He was pushing his forces to strike at different weak points of the attackers. With a quick glimpse, Ron saw a few masked men down thanks to Harry's tactics but that was not very inspiring after looking at two Aurors down on their side of the Atrium. There were not many of them and each wand was pure gold. One of the Aurors on the floor had a look on his eyes that Ron had seen before, the face of the killing curse. He gritted his teeth and gripped his wand more tightly. These Aurors were very young, some of them still in training, barely out of Hogwarts, he was sure.

"Ron, I need you on the other flank!" Harry yelled. Ron only nodded and bolted towards the other side of the Memorial, commanding his own share of young recruits.

It was madness. Everything was so dark that only the masks and the multicoloured lights flying over the Atrium were visible. It was like a twisted version of George's fireworks exploding from one side to the other. Dozens and dozens of spells fired from each side even before the previous round hit their targets.

"There! Over there too!" he was yelling to his recruits, "Parker! To your right!"

"Yes sir."

At that moment, and without Ron seeing it coming, Raymond Turner fell to the floor, lifeless.

Cold sweat dripped from Ron's forehead, as memories from darker days came to him. Almost all of the young Aurors were petrified in fear, with wide eyes and trembling hands. Fortunately, though, Parker was not one of them.

"Don't get distracted!" Harry was yelling hysterically, "We still have a battle here!"

Ron could understand why the new guys were distracted, all they had done so far were drills and this was a real battle. No, not a battle, a slaughter, that was what it was. A bloody slaughter.

They were outnumbered, probably one to three, Ron guessed.

"Oh Hermione," Ron mumbled thinking of his wife and the last thing he said to her when he left her barely an hour ago. Regret hit him at the same time he kept throwing curses toward the fireplaces. He should have hugged her more, he should have told her how much he loved her at least one more time.

She was right after all, as she always was. It was always going to be the Ministry, St Mungo's was surely a distraction. Ron wondered how would she react when she found out about the attack on the Ministry, would it be soon? Or would it be in the morning? Who would tell her? Would she read it in the Prophet? Would Ron still be alive? Would Harry?

Ron's heart shrank by the weight of those questions. It hurt more thinking about her finding out than about his own hopeless fate.

"Who the hell are they!?" a brown-haired bloke at Harry's side shouted in desperation, "Is this about Azkaban? We need back up!"

"Shut up and keep firing Bernard!" another lad answered him.

"Bollocks! There are way too many! We won't make it!"

"Focus! Remember your training!" Harry shouted, shaking a few lads around.

Everyone was already waiting for their final moments when a few lights rained down on the enemies. Ron turned back and he saw a few Aurors on the Ministry's windows. Ernie MacMillan was among them.

"It was about time! About bloody time, Ernie!" Ron yelled, laughing and resting a bit with his back against the Memorial.

From their high position, Ernie's guys were able to put down a lot of masked men pretty quickly. That gave Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Aurors at the Atrium a healthy space to breathe.

Harry and Ron got closer to talk about their plans and where it was best to hit. They also took a few seconds to _Reenervate_ a couple of Aurors who were only stunned next to them. Although, there were grim stares too when they recognized the faces of the fallen ones.

"Okay Ron, you should take the right-wing, there's a weak spot near the centre," said Harry.

"Way ahead of you mate, already saw it."

Harry nodded, "Let's go before Ernie gets hit. The surprise should have passed by now and—"

BOOM!

Whatever Harry had tried to say was lost because at that very moment the whole Black Memorial exploded into a thousand pieces. Chunks of black obsidian rained down on them, covering the entire Atrium. Ron thought the rocks were never going to stop falling.

"Bloody Hell! What the hell's going on?!" he yelled. Ron was shielded from the main explosion by one piece of rock that remained intact, but he was still strongly thrown to his side. When he raised his head, a cloud of fine black dust was covering his red hair.

It was as if time had stopped and suddenly he couldn't hear the curses, any of them. There was only a buzzing sound and clouds of black dust.

Ron coughed as he found shelter behind one big rock, and, as the dust settled, he was able to recognize figures on the floor. Some of them soon started to move and stand up slowly, others didn't move and Ron didn't know if they would ever move again. He couldn't see Harry but that was mostly because large pieces of black obsidian now separated both sides. He convinced himself that his brother-in-law was okay, he had to be, just thinking about surviving and having to give that news to Ginny tore him apart.

A new round of spells was fired as the enemies tried to take advantage of the confusion. Fortunately, a good number of _Protegos_ were raised, Ron's included. He hoped they could shield not only themselves but the guys on the floor too.

Then Ron felt dread setting in again as the first guy from the windows fell to the floor. The masked men were aiming at the Ministry's walls too. How long until they took down the few wands Ernie had up there? Those men were what kept them alive at the Atrium.

All of the world twirled in Ron's eyes. Blasting lights of all the colours of the rainbow hitting against solid but weakened shields, debris scattered around the Atrium, chunks of concrete falling from the Ministry's windows, shouts of pain and mourn. Ron felt himself back to that horrible day. He saw pieces of Hogwarts' gargoyles on every chunk of black obsidian, he saw killing curses on every spell, he saw Fred's face on every fallen Auror.

"Death Eaters, they must be Death Eaters!" he mumbled to himself, and putting a knee on the ground, he started answering the fire.

The enemy didn't expect that because they lost three masked men with Ron's first blow. A smile appeared on his face when he saw the young Aurors following him. Parker was still there and he even gave Ron a thumbs up.

A few feet away there was a piece of the Memorial that still had most of its letters, the golden engraving shining. Ron thought that it spelled ' _Weasley_ ' and that caught his attention, however, he could be seeing things too.

Ron was desperate, he couldn't put aside his thoughts about Hermione, Ginny or the rest of his family. Harry's child could be growing up without a father, like Teddy. Ron was not seeing any way out, he was feeling that it was only a matter of time now. They had fought before but never like this, not since the war, and still, they had more defences and friends then. They were going to lose, there was no other outcome.

A lonely tear streamed down Ron's cheek, taking the black powder with it on its way to his chin. All that black dust felt like coal and the Atrium like a mine without an exit. The fur-growing trifle and the party seemed like ages ago now.

"Ron! Where are you?!" Harry yelled from the other side of the Memorial.

Even when his best friend's presence didn't change much, he couldn't stop himself from grinning like a madman, "Right here mate, holding this side!" he yelled back.

"Brilliant, keep doing just that!" Harry huffed.

If they were going down, they were going together, and putting up a hell of a fight.

Out of nowhere, Harry reached him, crawling behind the debris. His whole face was filled with black dust too, except for his eyes which were shielded by round-shaped glasses. The right half of his glasses seemed broken but Harry made a quick _Reparo_ and turned to look at him, still throwing stunners at the enemy.

"There are so many of them. I didn't expect—" Harry tried, running out of air for a tic, "I think I took a few of them down but—" he said.

"I know," Ron said, quite shaken too. "We have to do something mate, we can't die here."

Ron was thinking of Hermione, surely Harry was thinking of Ginny, and the rest of the Aurors of their own families. No one had been expecting to die when they left their homes that day. And just when he was about to take George's offer.

"We need back up."

"What about Ernie?"

"I gave him the sign as soon as I could." Harry interrupted, "Not sure if he has had time to give the notice, curses are raining on him too. If they abandon their positions, even for a short time, we could be doomed down here."

"Blimey, guess we are toasted, eh?" Ron answered with a half-hearted smile, he shot an orange spell that hit one masked man on the far left of the attackers.

"We need more wands. We need to let Redfern know, and we need Kingsley too. We need... a distraction." said Harry.

Harry turned his head to both sides, analysing the situation as Ron followed him with the look. They had about ten Aurors left, against thirty or forty of the enemies still standing and firing.

"Wands ready! I'm going to make us a distraction!" his friend yelled, shaking a bit the dust out of his face, the lightning bolt scar became visible again.

"Harry, what— what the hell are you— ARE YOU NUTS!?" Ron said as Harry stood up.

Ron tried to pull him down but, from his place on the floor, it was useless. Soon the shouts came and the spells against them decreased for a moment. The enemy was surprised too.

"It's Potter!" a distant voice echoed in a foreign accent.

However, before the masked men could react, a white and blue light came out of Harry's wand, brightening the whole Atrium.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry Potter's voice echoed throughout the entire hall and a massive stag raced towards the enemy. It was even bigger than Ron. It sure scared the whole pack of attackers, who instinctively tried to cover.

"NOW!"

Ron didn't have to ask, he just raised his body and motioned for every Auror to do the same behind him. "EVERYONE! NOW IS OUR CHANCE!"

The whole defence raised at the same time, firing endless curses. So many enemies fell that Ron could actually hear them hitting against the floor. There were still many of them on the last lines who weren't hit or found cover against the fireplaces but Ron was sure the move was amazing. More than ten masked men were down with the surprise blow and not even one of the Aurors was hit.

Harry, Ron, and the entire Auror group dropped back quickly, dodging the green lights that flew above them. They were agitated but smiling.

"Great move Potter!" the Bernard guy said.

"That was unexpected, brilliant!" one of the few elder Aurors added, he was almost forty and with a light brown hair that went all the way to his shoulders.

Harry didn't answer, and a moment later more surprise gasps were heard from the enemies. Ron raised an eyebrow but their doubts cleared once Harry's majestic stag stood in front of them. It had returned.

With a muted voice and barely looking at the figure, Harry spoke quickly, "Marcus, we have a situation. We need all the wands we can get. We're under attack at the Atrium of the Ministry. Outnumbered. We won't hold on much longer, hurry, help." He sighed the last part then turned to look at the stag again. "Go."

The silvery stag left looking for its receiver.

The enemies growled as the silver animal crossed through them once again. They were furious, Ron heard them shuffling closer, advancing. The excitement of beating a bunch of them in the surprise attack came down again with the lack of hope in Harry's message.

"Don't let them get closer!" Ron yelled.

As the Aurors resumed the fight, Ron turned to look at Harry, who was still sitting against the floor breathing heavily. His friend appeared to be drained, that was the biggest Patronus Ron had ever seen him do.

"Harry? Harry... Harry!" Ron yelled, and finally, Harry turned to look at him. "Are you all right, mate?"

He nodded and turned over to the enemy once more, he kept throwing curses. Ron did the same, he wanted to ask his friend to rest but there was no point to that. This was it, and they had to throw everything they got. Maybe if they were lucky they would hold long enough for Redfern to arrive.

"Take that you ruddy masked pricks!"

They kept the fight going for a while, but their side was starting to get tired. They were barely seven of them, against over twenty attackers, and they were getting closer. They were already at the memorial while the retreating Aurors were just a few feet from the main door now. They didn't have much time left and Harry was surely about to order a full retreat.

At that moment, all kinds of shouts echoed and red light flooded the Atrium from the fireplaces. The reinforcements had arrived but they had a hard time against the cloaked figures once the surprise was over, the Floo entrances didn't give them much cover.

"Merlin! Are those the reinforcements?" one young lad asked in a good shock.

Harry answered smiling "Sort of, I think I recognize a few from Redfern's and Kingsley's staff. Not enough to be the proper reinforcements though. Redfern must be still waking some guys."

"I don't care who they are," Ron added laughing, "For me those are reinforcements! Take that you bloody Death Eaters!"

The new Auror force gave Harry's and Ron's group precious seconds to move forward. They needed better positions, now that reinforcements were here they didn't need to retreat and there was a chance of grabbing the attackers under crossfire. Harry remained at the centre, just behind the remains of the black memorial, while Ron raced to the left.

And they attacked back. The enemies, who for a moment had been surprised, were now confused and without an obvious shelter for the spells coming from both sides.

Ron smiled, and when he turned to look at Harry he seemed more hopeful too. They were winning, he couldn't believe it.

Parker was beyond excitement. They all had thought they were doomed and now everything seemed to be moving forward. Ron even sighed thinking he was going to be able to see his wife again.

"Weasley sir, we are winning," the young Auror laughed loudly, "I didn't think I was going to say this but we're—"

He didn't say anything else because then young Parker fell to the floor without any life left in his eyes. Ron was shocked and, as he turned back, he saw the rain of curses coming down. Ernie was not there. The Ministry's windows were firing at them.

One strike after the other, the green light fell upon them. It came almost slowly, one shy gleam at a time, staining the darkness like a storm of green spears. Cold and certain.

Silence reigned, or maybe not, it was hard to tell for Ron. Aside from his own heart's beating roughly against his chest, the redhead couldn't hear a bloody thing.

Once the sound finally reached his ears, it came all at once, violently. What he heard was not the sound of yells though, nothing like it. The yells were far away, at the fireplaces, in a different world. What Ron heard was the sound of corpses falling to the floor with a quiet thud. Almost in the same rhythm.

Ron had dodged just in time, not knowing how many of the other Aurors were still alive. He wanted more than anything else to find Harry, to know he made it. Even so, when the green light faded, he heard that little voice inside his head reminding him of his training, reminding him of the war. ' _Cover yourself, you idiot!_ ' shouted that voice.

The redhead turned around, most of the rocks and black debris were too small to hide in, and the Ministry windows were brightening with green again.

"Weasley, sir! Over here!"

Ron turned desperately, a few feet away he found the source of the voice. It was an Auror, young but not as much as Parker, closer to Ron's age it seemed. It was odd to have a clear memory at that moment, but her name came to him without effort, Penelope Padgett. The woman's eyes were urging him to hurry, covered under a golden sculpture of some old wizard and pieces of broken stones. Ron raced to her without thinking it twice. He made it, just barely.

Whoever the wizard depicted in that golden sculpture was, Ron promised himself to look up his name later, he owed him one.

He had a moment to breathe after the second round of killing curses ended. He saw Harry on the other side of the building, painfully alone, yet still alive. He was crouched under the biggest remains of the Black Memorial, utterly covered in black dust. He was moving his green eyes from side to side, once he met Ron he let out a sigh of relief. The whole space separating them was filled with rocks and corpses, young Parker among them.

They couldn't let the sorrow overcome them though, this was not a drill, a distraction could cost them dearly. They were not the same school blokes who were surprised in the middle of the war anymore, they were trained Aurors, they needed to be strong and leave the mourning for later.

Both of them forced themselves to look away, towards the Ministry building. There they found the culprit.

Almost twenty high spaces were used by cloaked figures and none by Aurors. Ernie was not there. How did they get access to the fireplaces inside the Ministry? Very few offices got direct connections and, considering the hour, all should be blocked.

The Auror reinforcements in the entrance of the Atrium had been hit by the surprise attack as well. They were being wiped out by the green curses that kept flying down on them. A few of those curses were still trying to hit Ron and Harry but their hideouts kept them safe for the time being. Ron wondered for how much longer.

"That was a close one," said Penelope, the Auror next to Ron.

"A close one? Are you bloody kidding me?! A tad closer and we would be on the floor now," Ron was heaving, "Thanks by the way."

"No problem sir, I got your back," she said with a smile. It was odd hearing her addressing him as ' _sir_ ' when she looked almost his age. Ron didn't have a high position in the Office, still, the fact he was Harry's right hand always grabbed attention. Besides, he was a war hero too.

It was difficult to know what to do next at the Atrium. They couldn't come out without being hit and staying was suicide as things were going.

"This is a bad day to die, tomorrow is my birthday," the Auror next to Ron said, "Tuesday the second that is, it's already Monday now I reckon."

Without knowing if she was joking or not, Ron stared at her, "If we get out of this, remind me to get you a cake," he said, "Hell, I'll make it myself, just don't expect it to be anything but dreadful."

"I'll see it done sir." replied the woman.

"RON!" Harry's voice suddenly reached them through the madness that was the Atrium.

At once, Ron turned towards the place where his best mate was trying to avoid the curses. Harry was pointing towards the building. It took Ron some time and a couple of dodged curses to realize what Harry was trying to say. At one of the windows, there was a man without a cloak. It was Dolohov.

The frown came to Ron naturally. He couldn't stand any Death Eater, still, it was not the same with the newer ones. Dolohov reminded him too much of that day, he hated him almost as much as he hated Rookwood.

"RON! We need to go inside!" Harry yelled the moment Dolohov moved into the building.

It was madness for sure but still far from the barmiest thing they had done, they couldn't stay there either way. So Ron nodded and let Penelope know. And they ran. They ran faster than Ron ever remembered running. They ran from opposite sides of the battlefield towards the building, through the main gates, as curses blasted behind them.

Then they were in.

The entrance was empty, almost silent, no sign of a struggle. Ron turned to his back and saw the curses still crashing down outside.

It was then that another wave of reinforcements arrived, with the Head Auror leading them. More would surely come. That made Ron wonder how the cloaked figures planned to escape, it was obvious the full muscle of the department was going to arrive sooner or later. They couldn't be that naive.

"Well about time," Penelope said.

Ron didn't know if the news had broken publicly already or if someone at the Office had let Hermione know by now. He hoped she was not that worried, even when she had every reason in the world to be.

It seemed surreal to be apart from the fight now. Outside the new reinforcements were fighting the guys at the windows and the remaining enemy force in the Atrium. Dolohov's men still had the higher ground, it would take a while before Redfern could reach the door.

"So now what, sir?" Penelope asked Harry.

"We must block their entrance. They are getting inside through a fireplace. There's no other way."

"Which one? Aren't they all locked?" asked the woman.

Harry turned to Ron, "There's an unlocked one. Used for maintenance."

It was not hard to understand Harry's intention. Had the battle changed Harry's opinion of Hermione's idea?

"Are you sure?" he asked his friend.

Harry nodded, "It's the only possible entrance. We have to check there first."

And so they left.

It took them little time to arrive at the Department of Magical Transportation. On the way there, they took down a few unsuspecting enemies by the windows, hopefully in Redfern's benefit. Even when Ron kept his eyes open for Dolohov, there was just no sign of the fugitive.

The bad feeling Ron had at the start of the day had skyrocketed by now. All the way to their destination, Hermione's words kept spinning about on his head.

They soon reached the Fireplace Maintenance Office and outside they found three figures standing over a man. The man was all tied up and, when Ron saw him, he was taken aback at once. It was Tobias Bosley, the supposedly dead fireplace worker.

Harry exchanged a knowing look with him.

"Look who honored us with his visit," said one of the masked figures. She was a woman with short brown hair. Ron couldn't see more of her as her face was covered by one of those black masks.

"Is it really Harry Potter? The savior of everything and everyone?" added the mocking voice of a man next to her, also masked. He was an American, that much Ron could tell.

Harry gave a step forward, speaking with the hardest tone he could muster, "Release this man. Now."

"We would rather not. You see, we're enjoying his company," said the American.

Tobias was gagged so he couldn't speak, he only thrashed about on the floor, his eyes looking at Harry with hope. Standing beside Tobias there was a third enemy, a bull of a man, massive and muscular.

"Sod off, all of you," said the bull-man in a raspy foreign accent, he looked at Harry as if daring him to attack him. "Potter- you're a berk!"

Penelope Padgett raised her wand, not showing fear to the giant man, "You better surrender, you can't escape and the reinforcements are here."

If the cloaked figures were surprised they didn't show it. "We're not afraid of old Marcus Redfern. Let him come." said the woman.

Why were they so calm knowing they were surely going to lose? They had the fireplace as an escape route but what did they gain by attacking the Ministry if they were going to retreat empty-handed? Then everything made sense at once. Hermione's worries, Dolohov going into the building, the whole attack. They came for something, they weren't planning on returning empty-handed.

Something they needed to open... something about a mirror… That's what the note had said. Then there was that device Hermione mentioned, that window. Ron wasn't entirely sure what did all mean, but he knew where to find answers.

"Bollocks! You're just wasting our time. Where are Dolohov and the rest of you? Are they heading downstairs?" Ron asked.

The masked woman didn't change her tone, "That's none of your business."

Dolohov was not here because of the battle, he wanted something else. Could it be the same thing that Hermione was worried about? That time- thing? Whatever he wanted couldn't be good if they were willing to risk this much.

Ron turned to his best mate, "You know where we have to go?"

Harry nodded, unflinching, "We can't leave this man here though."

Seemed like there was no way around it and these three looked like they were going to be a tougher thing than the others they had faced on the way there. They were not regular enemies, at least that much was true.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Ron yelled as he pointed at the American man, trying to get him off-guard. The woman was faster though, she blocked Ron's curse and sent a desk flying at him, which he managed to dodge clumsily.

The battle started. When he saw Ron on his feet, Harry went directly to the American, which made the bigger one follow the woman after Ron. Luckily, Penelope hexed the bull into a broom closet, leaving Ron just the woman to worry about.

At once, Ron discovered his rival was just too bloody fast. Ron kept dodging and blocking all the time, as she didn't give him much time to try anything else. She could block and attack and turn gracefully around, all at the same time.

Around him, the battle was confusing. Ron saw the huge man standing away from a smashed closet, going after Penelope. Harry was close by, trying to catch the other one somewhere around the Portkey Office.

"You're better than I thought Weasley." said the masked woman, whose voice sounded somewhat young.

Ron almost lost his footing on her last attack. Fortunately, he had rolled over just as a metal drawer came flying at him, then jumped into the small office that had belonged to Tobias. Ron had absolutely no idea who this woman was, all he could tell was that she was a hell of a duelist.

"Harry!" Ron shouted when he heard a massive explosion outside. He would have raced to his friend if the masked women hadn't been blocking the door.

"You have to go over me first," she said. With a swift flick of her wand, she made the desk blow and the papers were thrown in the air. She then transfigured them into sharp knives, from which Ron barely escaped. He did get a scratch on his cheek.

"Blimey! You're mental!"

That woman was fierce as fire. She jumped over desks and did backflips when Ron least expected it, she was definitely of the athletic type.

Ron found his chance soon enough. He levitated the hat rack in the small office, which he threw at her. The woman stumbled but didn't fall, instead, she rushed outside. Ron went after her.

Outside the fight was almost over. The American was on the floor unconscious and his mask had fallen in the struggle. His face was the one of that criminal from the reports, Garvan Ferrara, the arsonist bloke. His mustache could rival Vernon Dursley's, yet his body was thin instead of walrus-size. His presence explained the earlier explosion and the small green fires burning here and there.

The room was soaked as there were emergency clouds raining over the fires. Weirdly enough, Ron remembered Hagrid's old umbrella, as if covering himself from the raining clouds was important at the moment.

Harry was with Penelope, standing over the big man, who was also unconscious and tied up. The man had lost his mask as well, which let his beard out in the open, unruly and hard as wire. Ron looked for his own rival and he found the woman by a wall, dragging a terrified Tobias Bosley. She was breathing hard and soaked from the rain clouds, she threw her mask away.

Ron expected her to be ugly or have a crazy look to her, like Bellatrix, however, he was surprised by the beautiful looking woman in front of him. Her straight and unruly hair was short, but still long enough to fall gracefully over her forehead. There, her almond-shaped eyes stood up, outlined in black, almost like a cat. Her teeth were large and looked wonky, but somehow seemed to fit her.

All three wands pointed at the woman. She was surrounded.

Harry frowned after a brief surprise. "That's Aster Prince," he said, "She worked in this department, she was supposed to be in Azkaban's explosion."

The surprise hit Ron as well, who remembered her picture in the reports now. Another supposedly dead person. Hermione didn't see this one coming though. How did that change things?

"Is she the traitor? The rat?" Ron asked with a frown.

"We can't know yet, she might be under the _Imperious_ ," said Harry. "Let's get this over with and catch Dolohov. We'll see about that later."

Ron nodded. The three Aurors approached the woman, she didn't look like giving up.

"Throw your wands! You're not going to ruin this for me." She yelled, losing her temper. She had made Tobias stand up and was using him as a shield.

"Let him go." insisted Harry.

The woman, Aster Prince apparently, pressed the tip of her wand forcibly to the man's throat. "Just give me a reason."

Harry nodded to them. They knelt and put their wands down, not standing away from their weapons. If she made a move against one of them, the other two would certainly get her.

"Back away!"

Ron shook his head at Harry. They couldn't be that foolish to leave their wands. What else could they do? If this was one of those muggle movies this would be the point when something unexpected happened. Unfortunately, there was nothing to help them, the reinforcements were still fighting outside, Ron could hear them through the opened windows. Also, he didn't have a second wand in his pocket, all he had in his pockets were a couple of sickles and...

Suddenly, Ron's eyes opened at once, staring at the clouds still raining water on the whole room. The green fires were almost off.

"Back off, I said!"

Ron turned to Harry, "I'll give you a shot. Don't blow it." he whispered.

"Ron, what—?"

"You prats, you want me to repeat that, don't you?" Prince insisted, pressing her wand even harder against the keeper of the fireplaces.

Ron nodded to Harry and stood up, leaving his wand there, his hands raised in the air. "All right, you win. I'm stepping back," he said, he even gave his back to the woman.

"Ron!" Harry called.

Honestly, Ron couldn't say he was displaying Gryffindor's courage, at the time it felt more like he was doing something completely nutter. He closed his eyes and hoped the woman didn't kill him right then and there. Still, he did what he had to do. He put his right hand in his pocket and took out the _Party Blasters_ , all of them. Those things threw confetti when in touch with saliva, or any other source of water hopefully.

It all happened quickly. Aster Prince yelled as Ron threw the prank items, which exploded in a world of multicolored paper. Voices echoed and Ron made everything in his power to jump away from the curse he knew was coming. He was hit though, hard on his chest at first then again at his back. After that, everything turned black.


	5. The Haunting Corridor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron hurry to the Department of Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades(ffnet) who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. I appreciate the reviews. Only one thing to address at this point, the pacing. Some people might feel this is slow or could've been solved better by going directly to the time-traveling and explaining the rest of flashbacks or the like. I say, patience. How would the original story have felt if the first chapter was Harry arriving at Hogwarts and we learning of Hagrid, Ollivander and the Dursleys on flashbacks? I have some ground to cover that will be important later on. So, bear with me, we're almost there.
> 
> 4\. Meanwhile, here's a bunch of action. Enjoy.

"Ron... Ron..."

It was a muted voice, as if lost in the distance. He found it familiar and a little annoying as well. For a while, everything was dark and he couldn't quite remember where he was or how he got there. He had to wake up though, he knew that.

"Ron!"

This time the ginger opened his eyes as he let out a painful grunt. From the blurry shapes in front of him, he distinguished Harry. Everything was out of focus but Harry looked relieved, that much he could tell.

"You alright, mate?" he asked.

"To some extent."

Ron turned around as the world began taking shape. They were in some office, one which needed attention, it was all shambles of papers and broken furniture. That was when he remembered.

"How are you feeling?"

"As if I just stepped on one of those blast-ended skrewts, nothing major mind you," Ron answered. He tried to stand up just to realize all of his body ached. "Oh bugger!"

"Easy there," Harry said as he helped his friend get up. After flexing his muscles a little, Ron was able to stand on his own. The wall behind Ron was trashed, surely Ron had hit himself there after the curse, which explained the back pain.

Harry stared at him for a moment, once he decided he was not going to fall to the floor he continued, "Are you out of your senses?! That was the barmiest thing you've done and I'm not saying that lightly."

"Oi, I'm in pain here. Are you going to give me a hard time, you git?" Ron smiled, remembering the confetti. How did he come up with that? He couldn't wait to tell George.

"It's not a joke. You got lucky, what if it had been the killing curse?"

At once the colour from Ron's face went out, he could be dead now. It had been a risky move. Still, he shouldn't let Harry get mad at him. Otherwise, his friend might tell Hermione about Ron's little feat, and then it would be his wife the one who would murder him.

"I'm sorry, alright? It felt like the only way to go, we needed a distraction. And besides, didn't you do the same with the Patronus out there?"

Harry didn't find an answer to that.

"The good thing is that we got that woman, she was mental." The woman. Aster Prince. Ron had forgotten about her. For the first time since he woke up, Ron tried to look beyond Harry, "You got her, right?"

His friend nodded, "I have to admit it did work as a distraction, remarkably well I must add. We put double stunners on her as soon as she attacked you. Penelope went to check on Tobias, she's with him right now. I _reenervated_ you and here we are."

Curious, it must have been barely a couple of minutes since the whole thing. It felt way longer to Ron. The cloud rain was gone, Ron noticed, and fortunately since Hagrid was not around to lend that umbrella to him. Ron realized they were mostly dry now, probably Harry's doing.

Ron found the woman on the floor, unconscious and covered with multicoloured confetti. Now that he looked at her more closely he was sure of having seen her at the Ministry before. Ron wondered if Aster Prince had been _Imperiused_ or if she had acted on her own accord. If she wasn't _Imperioused_ , it was going to be a headache to tell the family she was alive after all, only to throw her into a cell the next moment.

It was no time to do an investigation though.

"There has to be an explanation for all of this. We have to find Dolohov," said Harry.

They tied the woman up, then they headed to the small fireplace maintenance office where Penelope was checking Tobias Bosley's wounds.

"It's great to see you well, sir," she said as soon as she saw Ron enter.

"Thanks, you did a fine job keeping me alive back at the Atrium. It would've been a waste to die so soon after," Ron said. "Besides, I have to find the name of that wizard before dying."

"What wizard?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"The one in the sculpture, the one that saved our arses at the Atrium."

"It's called a bust when it's just the face," Penelope corrected him, "I'm not entirely sure whose bust it was though, I reckon it could've been an old minister. Honestly, I didn't care that much who it was at the moment."

A bust it is then.

After Penelope finished with Tobias' wounds, she transfigured a pencil holder into a proper mug and got to fetch him some tea. Fear was still evident in the man's eyes. His long face reflected weariness as well. Fortunately, he looked way better after getting help from Penelope.

"Nice to see you well, Mr. Bosley," said Harry.

Ron flexed his muscles a bit, still numb from before, and moved closer to the man, "What does it feel to be back among the living?"

The presumed dead worker looked stunned as he stared at Ron. "T—the living?"

"You were believed dead," said Harry, making the man almost drop his mug, "I'm sorry for this, it must be all very sudden. I promise all your questions will be answered in the proper time, I guess you'll want to be back to your family as quickly as possible?"

The brown-haired man nodded. His eyes were big, Ron noticed, but it could be the way his expression was at the moment. Still surprised, still trying to get used to what happened. Ron couldn't really blame him.

"We'll see to it." Harry promised, "However, we're in a critical situation and we need your help. I know it must be difficult, but can you tell us all you can remember about the men who took you prisoner?"

Tobias Bosley hurried some quick words. The man didn't have much information from the days he was captured, still, his mere existence confirmed Hermione's theory. Ron still couldn't believe it, she did not only was right on her bright ideas but on her more mental ones as well.

"They're here for something." the man said at last.

Ron froze, "The masked men?"

Tobias nodded. "I heard those three talking about giving the others time. Time to get something."

 _Bollocks_. That window thing Hermione mentioned... the mirror that prick Pucey wrote about. It must be the same thing. Ron had been hoping it didn't come to that.

"This confirms it," he told Harry.

"It might."

Penelope was confused, "What is it?"

There was a loud sound outside, Harry went to take a quick look through the windows, "More reinforcements have arrived, it's just a matter of minutes before the Atrium is ours." he announced.

"We don't have time to wait for them though," Ron added.

"Care to explain?" insisted Penelope.

Harry turned to her, "I need to go after Dolohov. I think I know where he is."

"You mean _'we'_ need to go after Dolohov."

"Ron..."

He could see the argument coming from a mile away, but Ron would be having none of it. It was true that he had almost died not five minutes ago and that he might not be in the best of conditions, on the other hand, there was no way in bloody hell he was leaving Harry alone.

"Don't even try to go all _'honorable git'_ with me. I know the act, so drop it. You won't be able to do this alone."

"It's your last day as an Auror, Ron. This could all be over for you now, you don't have to come. Think of Hermione," Harry argued.

Low punch, however, Ron was not backing down. "I'm going and that's it. Hermione wouldn't want me to leave you alone. Come to think of it, my luck is just blasted, if I go I might die but if I don't help you Ginny would probably kill me either way."

Harry rolled his eyes, he ended up nodding.

"So, where are we going?" asked Penelope.

Ron was left speechless, it would be hard to refuse the Auror's help but for a moment he truly feared for her. What if she didn't make it? Like the young Parker didn't. Ron had been trying not to think of the young lad or any of the other fallen Aurors, however, all of what had happened in the last hour came down on him, heavily.

He didn't want Penelope to die.

Fortunately, Harry took over, "You're not going, Penelope."

"What? You can't be serious."

"I need you to take care of Mr. Bosley and ensure this fireplace is not used by the attackers anymore. Someone has to watch over our prisoners too."

The woman turned to look at the worker, who looked afraid of the possibility of being left alone, "I'm in better shape than Weasley. He can stay," she argued.

"Yes you are, but he is a stubborn prat. And though I hate to admit it, I need him. He knows more about the men we're facing than you do."

"I could be of great help."

Harry smiled, "You have already been the greatest of helps. Without you, we would have lost here and we would be dead. I'll make sure Redfern hears about it, you might get a promotion."

Two times the Auror tried to talk back at Harry without finding the words. Eventually, she gave up, "Go on then."

Ron smiled at her, "Thanks, for everything."

"Remember, you can't die without finding out the name of the man, the one in the bust." she said, trying to smile, "Besides, you owe me a cake."

"You do?" Harry asked him.

"The price for saving my life."

Penelope didn't like serious or gloomy talk, that much was obvious. Ron hadn't crossed two words with her before that night, but he guessed almost dying together was a way of getting to know stuff about people.

"And you—" Penelope turned to Harry, "you better make it as well. I need my promotion. Sir."

Harry nodded.

"Tell Redfern to come to the Department of Mysteries after they get into the building."

"The Department of Mysteries?" the woman asked, visibly startled.

"No time to explain. Let's go, Ron."

They left at once. Without turning back as they made their way to the lifts. On the way there Ron thought of Parker and his last moments. He thought of the Department of Mysteries and what was being kept there. Mostly though, he thought of Hermione.

When the lift doors closed, Harry and Ron bolted towards level 9 and their last mission together.

All the way there, the two friends remained silent. Ron wondered if Harry had as much in his head as he did. He surely did, Harry loved sulking in situations like this.

As the different floors in the Ministry passed by his eyes, Ron's thoughts wandered to their upcoming challenge. Was Dolohov trying to alter time? That was not his style, having elaborate plans. He seemed more of the brute type.

Ron still found it hard to believe they had the guts to attack the Ministry, it was one of the most secure places in the world. Everyone knew that. It was like trying to steal something from Gringotts.

Memories of their last visit at Gringotts flashed to Ron. Getting the goblins to admit them back at the bank had been a massive headache for Kingsley but, with Bill's help, he managed to pull it off. Ron would have smiled at the memory, but he felt his body hurting just then. His back was killing him and he was sure that woman had cut him with one of those flying knives somewhere.

Aster Prince. Was she really _Imperioused_? Was she Snape's lost cousin? Only time would tell.

At his side, Harry showed no emotion. Ron's longest friend noticed him wincing, even so, he didn't say anything about it. There was no turning back at this point.

The lift stopped. As they came out, Ron realized they must've looked like crap. They had been hit hard and not even the rain had been able to remove all the black dust from them.

Both friends raised their wands, ready to step out, together.

"I told you, Hermione—"

"—is always right, I know," said Harry.

The lift doors opened with a creaky sound. There was no one there, only the path to the black door. Harry seemed to shiver and Ron was in no better shape. The dark corridor before them had haunted Ron's dreams before. They had to do this though, they had already lost too much that night. He thought of young Parker and his lifeless eyes again, if they turned back now he would have died in vain.

Ron sighed heavily, "Can I tell you something?"

"What is it?" his friend asked, ever so quiet.

"If you had told me we were coming back here years ago—"

"You wouldn't have believed me?" Harry guessed as they got closer.

"I would've stopped being your friend at that very moment," Ron corrected with a grin.

Harry smiled, just barely, then moved his hand towards the black door. His smile didn't last long.

"Ready?" Harry's voice was merely a whisper.

He hoped they were ready, they were only two against who-knew-how-many. For a wild second, Ron even wished Harry had kept the Elder Wand, it could've come handy right about now. However, the wand his friend was gripping was the old Phoenix one he had gotten from Ollivander so many years ago, back around the days when he had first befriended Ron. Suddenly Ron realized he had been friends with Harry for more than half of his life, fighting side by side, spending their days together. Considering that he was going to accept George's offer, that was going to change this day, in one way or another.

"Let's do this, mate," Ron said.

The knob was turned and then they were both inside. The sound abandoned them. They found themselves in a familiar round room, gloomy and with nothing around but a set of plain black doors, handleless. The blue fire made things look even gloomier. It was just as Ron remembered.

The door behind them closed.

All the doors started moving, as Ron had forgotten they would do. Now they didn't know which door led where. Not that they knew before they started spinning, but still, he didn't like the whole change of doors.

"Now what?" Ron asked. Should they go both through the same door? Splitting now sounded like a world-class terrible idea.

They didn't have to make a choice though, because right then one of the doors opened and several men came inside the round room. They were shocked at seeing Ron and Harry there. None of them were bothering with a mask anymore.

Standing in the middle, Dolohov noticed them first. He had that same horrible face that Ron remembered, only that it had more wrinkles now. His rough hair had more grey in it as well. It took him a short time to frown at them in recognition as a hateful smile came to his lips.

"It has been some time Potter," the old fugitive finally said. Then, without waiting for an answer, he threw a purple curse at them and everything turned to madness.

Ron and Harry made their best to jump away and fire back, yet they were on the open and space didn't allow for much of a movement

" _Depulso!_ " Harry shouted. Five men — Dolohov included — dodged the spell. Even so, the other two were thrown to the door they came from. Ron heard the entrance door slam. He knew what was coming.

No-one stopped firing as the walls spun once again around them. Harry engaged at once in a fight against a tall man, hoping to surprise him, but the man was fast and a bloody good duelist. The bloke had slick back blond hair, which made him look like some sort of Malfoy, but more dangerous. Harry and Ron had to take some of these men down quickly if they wanted to have a chance, they were outnumbered.

Ron tried to help his friend but he had his own hands busy, as he found himself facing a dark-skinned man of white hair. He had odd-looking tattoos on his cheeks and spoke in a tongue Ron couldn't understand. He was a tough one as well, seemed to be anticipating his every move.

Ron was starting to get dizzy, he thought he might chunder all over the Department of Mysteries when the door movement stopped. However, that didn't change the fact that they were in disadvantage and needed to do something soon.

"Watch out!" Harry managed to warn Ron under the madness.

The purple beam that Dolohov had fired passed close to Ron's left ear, but he was able to duck sideways as the loose curse continued its way to the wall. The dark-skinned man he was fighting managed to dodge it as well, yet he was distracted enough for Ron to get him directly on the chest with a stunner.

 _One down_ , Ron thought, as he turned to help his friend.

Ron raised his red oak wand ready to help when a bloody-minded curse came to him. Even when he managed to pull his shield up he was thrown backward with great strength. It happened that there was a door just behind him and Ron opened it with his back as he flew through it.

"Ouch!" he groaned as he hit hard against the floor. His back was getting a lot of punishment today.

"RON!" Harry's shouts echoed in the distance, he was too busy to help though. Ron saw his friend casting a rope out of thin air, trying to pull the blond man out of combat with it. Harry was also duelling Dolohov at the same time.

"I'm fine!" Ron yelled back, still with his back against the floor.

Dolohov and the man who shot at Ron were not the only ones still standing, there was a third man, a huge blond figure who Ron recognized right away.

Rowle, a Death Eater recently freed from Azkaban, came rushing after Ron the moment he flew through the door. Ron saw him just in time. He raised his wand arm blocking Rowle's curse as he stumbled back on his feet again.

The new room was beyond familiar though.

"Oh Bollocks! Not again!" Ron whined looking at the brains floating in the tank behind him, green liquid all around them. It had been reconstructed exactly as it was that day. He shivered, feeling ghost twinges from the faded scars on his arms.

The door closed and Ron stopped hearing Harry, his friend and Dolohov were out of his reach now.

Rowle was bigger than Ron remembered, as tall as the blond man Harry was duelling against, but certainly bulkier. The man who had shot at Ron was in the brain room as well. He walked patiently and seemed to be studying Ron. His short hair was dark and he had a relaxed stance to him, however, it was his eyes that caught Ron's attention. They were mismatched, one black and the other pale grey, but they seemed to be gleaming under the mystifying light of the brain room. It was as if the man's appearance fitted perfectly well with the Department of Mysteries. Dark, cold, and shining at the same time.

The doors on the circular room where Harry was fighting the other two enemies should be spinning by now, Ron realized. He knew he had to take these two down before he could help his friend.

"Weasley, a pleasure to finally meet you," the man with the mismatched eyes said. Another American, Ron noticed at once.

"Your friend, the explosion bloke, he was not that pleased. Garvan Ferrara?" Ron taunted him, as he shot back at Rowle.

The man of the queer eyes lost his smile. "You defeated Garvan? Call me impressed."

It was Harry who defeated Ferrara, but Ron was not about to take him out of that idea.

The man moved with ease through the room. He had fine clothes that seemed custom made, dark trousers and a dark vest over a plain shirt, nothing like old wizarding robes. He didn't shoot at Ron as often as Rowle, as if analyzing him was more interesting than winning the fight. He moved his wand almost lazily.

"He had friends, Ferrara. They thought they could beat us. A big man, as in muscle not belly like Rowle here," Ron had to dodge a spell that Rowle angrily sent at him. "There was a woman too."

Ron wanted to see his reaction. See if he gave any indication of the woman being _Imperioused_ or not. The American man narrowed his mismatched eyes. He didn't lose his posture but it was obvious he did not take Ron's words kindly. Ron wasn't sure what to make of it.

It was a given that the man was about to throw a curse at him, so Ron was prepared. However, Rowle fired first, almost taking Ron by surprise. The purple beam passed only inches away from him, then came the sound of a tank exploding at his back, and Ron didn't give it a second thought. He slammed his body against a door at one side of the room and left before he could see the first brain coming out. He was not going to go through that again.

The last he heard before the door closed was Rowle's painful yells.

Ron fell through a few stone benches, hurting himself all the way down. The pain was numbing, yet he had his senses with him still. The moment he stopped, Ron turned quickly about, his wand aiming at the door from where he had fallen. No one appeared to have come after him.

He didn't dare to move though, fearing that man or Rowle could cross the door any moment now. He kept his eyes and wand fixed there, as his breathing echoed incredibly loud around him. Only the whispers were able to take his attention away from the door.

At first, they were silent, like soft murmurs, but somehow going very deeply into him. He turned around and went colder at the sight of the new room. _The Death Chamber._

He was in a large pit surrounded by levels and levels of stone benches, and, in the middle, standing as an illusion of the past, the bloody arch. _The veil_. A black tattered curtain fluttering even when the air was cold and still around it. Before Ron even knew it, he was attracted to it and found himself standing a few feet away. He wanted to run in the other direction and never see the blasted thing ever again. Yet, he couldn't.

A cold wave flowed through him and he felt Sirius' presence stronger than ever, even the whispers sounded like him. He couldn't understand what they were saying but he wanted to.

Would it be that bad? To hear what Sirius had to say? Nothing bad could happen, he was plenty of feet away from the veil. A decent and safe distance.

Ron kept his eyes fixed on a single point. Trying to see something through it, anything. The shadows and glimmers danced with each other as the veil swayed, pushed by a non-existing wind. the stone benches on the other side couldn't be seen through it.

How could one die just by going in? What happened to the body afterward? It was just so mysterious and so unlike the killing curse. The veil didn't even feel evil, it just felt like death. Like peace.

It was then that another voice came, a younger one that Ron kept very dearly in his memory. They were only whispers, yet they sounded like a smirk, a laugh. A tight knot came to his throat and a void inside him felt bigger than it had felt in years. He felt guilty just by being on this side of the veil.

Ron's hand raised. For a glimpse, he thought he saw something on the other side, something inviting. He was not sure what or who it was, and he had to be.

He took a doubtful step forward, not even knowing what he was going to do, when a new voice reached him and he stopped at once. It was not a whisper this time, but a memory.

"Let's go," said the voice, and it was Hermione's voice.

Ron remembered. Harry had been here, standing where he was. All of them had been here. Hermione had insisted on going forward, leaving the veil behind. The memories were overwhelming. Sirius had died here, a day not very different to the one Ron was experiencing now.

He couldn't stay here and find what the whispers were telling him, it was pointless, he wouldn't find anything for him there. He had to help Harry, he had to go back to Hermione.

"Come on! Let's go," Hermione's voice came one more time, a memory so vivid Ron could almost swear the younger version of his wife was next to him.

He forced himself to close his eyes and shook his head, trying to regain focus. When he opened them again Ron realized he hadn't been that far from the veil anymore. He was right next to it now, his fingertips less than a foot away from the fluttering fabric.

Ron gulped and walked away. He glimpsed at the door from where he had arrived, no one came or was going to come after him. Maybe the brains took care of Rowle and that mysterious man, hopefully. Maybe they went on with their plans instead of pursuing Ron around the department.

After a hard breath, Ron turned his eyes and found the door back to the round room, the one with the spinning doors. He crossed it without looking back.

Harry was not in the round room, neither was Dolohov or the blond bloke. The dark-skinned man Ron had stunned was on the floor, still unconscious.

After taking the man's wand and making sure he was securely tied up, Ron turned around. Harry was surely at one of the other rooms, still fighting. But which one? How longer until Redfern's men joined them? It felt like a long time had passed already.

He was starting to think that bringing Penelope might have been a good idea after all.

As the black doors swiveled again, Ron started wondering where he was supposed to be heading. It was very little what he knew about the Department of Mysteries but if they indeed had come all of this way for a time-travelling artifact, they could only be looking for one room. Luckily, the next door Ron opened led him exactly there.

The _Time Room_ was different from what Ron remembered, or maybe he couldn't remember it that well. It was still filled with gleaming lights and clocks, but the place felt different than the last time he had been there. Back in fifth year, Ron had a hectic run through this very room, but in a way, it felt more silent now. There was this unnerving feeling that something was hiding there, waiting for him.

A whole range of strange artifacts was placed on long tables, crazy things like size-changing balls floating around and a flask that seemed to contain a fog of pure darkness. That flask was transparent but the light in the room just couldn't get inside of it, dim as it was. There were offices at the sides where the Time-Turners used to be, Ron didn't know what was in them anymore.

Ron walked by the side of the tables, moving his wand from side to side. He didn't dare to light up the top of his wand but the sound of his steps was surely enough to warn any hidden enemy. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, as if all the night's events were weighting on him now. He must look like crap too, considering all the sweat and black dust he must have on his clothes and face. Still, he went on.

It didn't take long for him to realize that what he was looking for was at the very end of the room.

A man was standing in front of an old mirror, mouthing some foreign words as he swung his wand about it. It was him, the man of the mismatched eyes, the American.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ron asked, once in front of him. He didn't lose time in throwing a stunner.

The man spun gracefully and blocked his curse, "Give me some credit, Weasley. I saw you coming from a mile away."

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded.

"It's none of your business. But fear not, I'm almost done."

The man took a few steps away from the mirror. Ron glimpsed all around him, yet his silent question was answered, "If you're looking for Rowle, you can relax. Your little stunt with the brain tank had an impression on him. I'm afraid that he won't be joining us for the time being."

"That was on him. The troll-head blew the tank himself," Ron said.

A gesture came from the man, letting Ron know that those were mere details for him.

Ron took the chance to look at the mirror in more detail now. It was oval-shaped, with a simple brass rim for an edge, large enough to show the whole of him at once. From afar it had seemed mysterious enough to Ron, but after a better look, he decided that it was far from the weirdest object in the room. Maybe it could've fit just fine on a regular Antique Shop.

Was that it? The mirror the note had mentioned? It should be, the man was doing some bloody thing to it when he arrived. Hermione had talked about a _'window'_ as well _,_ but Ron hadn't seen any window down here.

Ron walked sideways until he was right in front of the mirror. He didn't move forward, just looking at it from afar, still, the man didn't try to stop him. What Ron saw in that mirror, shocked him plenty. That was saying something, considering he had seen beastly spiders and had attended Hagrid's classes before.

Standing straight in front of the mirror, Ron realized his reflection was missing, even when everything else in the room seemed to be shown there.

 _I'm a bloody vampire now,_ he thought.

He blinked twice, shook his head, then watched again. What he saw in the mirror this time surprised him even more. His reflection was there now alright, but it showed him a tad younger, as if he had just finished Hogwarts. A few times more he blinked, and each one his age was different: fifth year, third year, sixth year... first.

"A piece of something, isn't it?" said the man then, amused at Ron's reaction. "Croaker's little toy."

Saul Croaker. So this was it, the same thing Hermione had talked about. How was this a window though? Ron couldn't see what was on the other side, just him. A younger version of him mind you, but still him. If he knew more about this Time Theory rubbish he might be able to understand, but he was not into that sort of stuff and he was not about to start now.

"Where's Harry?" Ron hurried, raising his wand.

He didn't need an answer though, because once he put his attention away from the mirror he noticed the slightly opened door at the American's side. That door led directly to the _Prophecy Room,_ Ron knew. Voices and distant shouting were coming from the other side, he could even see some lights flying over the shelves through the open crack of it. The gleams of the curses gave a purple tone to the American, who looked amused at Ron's reaction.

Harry was alive, that much was true, but Ron didn't know if he was fighting one or two opponents. Ron needed to go help and help him, yet he couldn't let the man finish whatever rubbish he was doing with the mirror.

"You can't get away, by now we should have the Atrium and the upper levels. It's only a matter of time!" Ron warned him.

"' _A matter of time_ ', you say? Curious choice of words," The man's voice was deep but calmed, not louder than it was supposed to. "It was never our intention to keep your precious Ministry, you see." he said, not looking worried at all.

So it was all a setup. What else could it be? They couldn't have expected to take over the British Ministry with fifty men.

"Besides, we're not stupid," the man continued as he eyed the mirror, going over his chances of finishing what he was doing before Ron interrupted him. "We knew that even with our great plan things could go awry. That's why I wouldn't have come here without a friend at the Portkey Office arranging something for us," he finished, touching one of his pockets.

"The Portkey Office? You're lying!"

"What? I can't have a guy at the Auror Office, one Unspeakable AND someone at the Portkey Office too?" the man insisted as he moved his eyes around the room, "You're a trained Auror, Weasley, it would be a folly to underestimate us by now. This was not rushed, it was planned for years and executed correctly."

He had a point. "Who?" he mouthed.

Even as he asked the question Ron wondered about that woman, Aster Prince. Was she the contact at the Portkey Office? It was likely. Was she _Imperiused_ then? It would be something to look at. Later.

The man stopped and laughed slightly, "I think there's no point in hiding them now, is it? But I can hardly remember them all. They're too many!" the American man said faking a disbelief gesture, he was smirking, "Pucey, Carter, Dawlish, Robertson, Creevey—"

Ron was expecting Pucey, the nasty git, but was shocked by the others, "Creevey?"

"The boy had names and a brother he wanted back."

 _A brother._ Ron turned to the mirror once more. Could the man really offer that? Was this time-mirror so powerful? He shook his head. This man wanted to get in his head, he could as well be lying about Dennis Creevey. "You're mental."

The man laughed as he stared at the mirror with greed, his mismatched eyes giving a mysterious glint. "This has dragged for too long, don't you think? Now, if you're not going to run to your friend's aid, I would be grateful if you just... backed off!"

A purple blast was thrown at Ron and he was able to dive behind a table at the last moment. Then the man fired at the mirror, and it shone with a blinding light. Ron saw the man rushing back to it, but he was quicker.

"Oh no, you won't!" Ron yelled as he threw a blast from behind the table. The man had to jump away from the mirror to avoid being hit.

The mirror's light receded, yet its surface was still somewhat bright.

Had the man failed? Ron had no clue what had just happened, but he had to continue the fight. He had to stop him from getting any closer to the mirror.

Spells flew over the tables, it was a delicate battle since neither one of them seemed to be trying to hit the artifacts in the room. The man was not as fast as the masked woman or as aggressive as the blond man who faced Harry, but he was just as dangerous. Maybe even more so. His movements were smarter, more practical, allowing him to do just the right amount of effort to push Ron to where he wanted. Nothing more. If the woman had been the athletic type, this man was more of a strategist. It almost felt as if he was playing chess. Ron could see his moves though, he wanted to keep him away from the mirror as much as he did.

" _Stupefy!_ " Ron shouted at an opening, and he ran to the mirror before even checking if he had hit the man. Big mistake.

" _Diffindo,_ " the man's voice echoed.

"Arrgh!" Ron roared as he was slashed on his way to pick the mirror. A large cut was made on Ron's wand arm which started bleeding. He jumped out of the way at once.

As he gave cautious glimpses at his attacker and analyzed the game they were playing, Ron became more anxious. Harry was one of the best duelists he had known but he could still hear him battling Dolohov. What was taking him so long? Was he hurt? Was the blond man still fighting?

"Come on Weasley, you want to bring someone back too, am I right? Everybody has someone," the American said as he blasted a chair behind Ron, "A mother, a friend, a father maybe?"

Ron was gritting his teeth with more anger now, the wound on his arm was serious too, he noticed.

"Another relative perhaps?" the man continued, "...is it a sibling?"

"Shut your bloody mouth already!" Ron came out, firing quickly at him. He didn't hit him directly but a bottle exploded behind the man and an orange liquid splashed on his face, burning him.

The man let out a yell of pain, the first sign of him losing his calmness, then he had his defence back up. He was laughing again. "A sibling it is then," he said and they continued exchanging spells.

Ron was feeling terribly light-headed by now. He had to take care of his wound soon, otherwise he was going to pass out. Wouldn't that be just rotten luck now?

No, he couldn't let that happen. Ron had to win this thing soon. He had to take some risks. So, he started firing at the mysterious objects near the man, hoping that one of them would put the scale in his favor. Most likely he was destroying someone's life's work, but it was the least of his worries at the moment.

He was starting to consider destroying the mirror, to keep the man from taking it, when objects began to explode at his back. The American man started copying his tactic. No one could know for certain what happened next, a louder explosion thundered and the room was covered in total blackness. Ron remembered that dark flask.

The two of them kept going, trying to guide their attacks only by the sounds. Not even the curses and hexes were bright enough to shine over the black smoke that covered it all.

Ron couldn't let the man near the mirror, so he hurried there. He heard him running as well and, in total blackness, he was able to tackle him to the ground at the last second. The man untangled himself and rushed away from Ron.

The dizziness was getting unbearable, and Ron didn't even know where the man was now. He stood up, looking for the support on the wall, but his fingers found something liquid there. It couldn't be the mirror, right? It couldn't be liquid. Still, Ron couldn't know for sure with all the black fog around them.

The dark clouds cleared up a little, everything was still black but at least now Ron could see the spells coming at him and the shape of the man with mismatched eyes not far away.

"It's useless, Weasley. You can't stop me. It's time for things to change!" the man yelled, more closely than ever.

Ron was able to see the purple light one second before it was too late. He dodged and fired back " _Reducto!_ " he shouted at a stone table near the man.

There was a chain reaction and between the darkness and all the things flying around, he wasn't sure of much anymore. Ron fell completely into the wall and liquid splashed in the air. He didn't know what was up or down anymore. He felt himself falling for a long time, far longer than the room's height. He couldn't hear a thing. The darkness was gone. The world was blue, and silver, and shining.


	6. The Journey from the Time Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron starts a new adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades(ffnet) who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.

For a moment, Ron thought he was dead, like really dead.

He was floating on this shiny void, unable to feel any part of his body. His pain was gone, and yet, his head felt numb and lost. In some way, it was like being underwater but without the drowning part.

The Time Room was hard to forget. Ron had been fighting there, he knew. Even so, his thoughts were foggy and they felt more like flashes of silent images than real memories. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened after falling through the wall, or even if some spell had hit him before doing so. One of the exploding objects in the Time Room could've been deathly and he would have never known.

In the end, none of it mattered. All that was important to Ron, all that mattered to him, was Hermione. He could almost see a man calling her by Floo, telling her what happened. Ron couldn't help it, the image of his wife crying and alone tore him apart.

Would Harry be the one to give her the news? He wasn't sure how much that mattered either.

Wherever he was, Ron felt as if falling. He was being pulled to his left instead of down, yet he knew it was a fall. He still couldn't move his hands or feel his body, he didn't know if that was normal in dying, he hadn't died before. Curious how he never asked Harry how that felt before.

On the other hand, maybe Ron wasn't dead after all, maybe he was just dreaming.

As he kept floating through that tunnel, Ron heard low whispers. They were mostly Hermione's, yet some sounded an awful lot like Harry, or his parents, or George, or Ginny. At the same time, he saw flashes of cold, blue light coming to him; almost in sync with the sounds. The light took over the entire tunnel, gleaming as pale as one of that man's unreal eyes, fading in and out. Ron soon found out that he could distinguish images in those lights, sharp and clear.

He saw himself learning of the Azkaban attack in one of those images and Ginny announcing that she was pregnant at the next one. Slowly, his life passed in the form of ghostly and cold patterns. He saw his wedding and felt his heart shrink at the nervous smile on Hermione's face. The pale blue patterns in the tunnel did not do her justice.

A knot in his throat was formed, though he wasn't sure if he still had a throat. He saw himself asking Hermione to marry him, as a proud horse made its way on an unforgettable night. When the images of the first time his mother saw little Victoire arrived, Ron started wondering if he was really dreaming. He was floating bodiless for sure but he could feel the cold in a way that was unusual for any kind of dream.

The day he joined the Auror force appeared and then the war. Ron tried to close his eyes desperately but it seemed like he didn't have eyelids either. He was forced to see all of it again: Voldemort's fall, Harry lying dead on Hagrid's arms, Fred's motionless body on the cold stones of the Great Hall...

It played again on his head, as it had played over and over again through the years. His brother's last laugh cut short by a wicked blast. Everything a whirlwind, all happening at once. Ron couldn't stop feeling raw, as if someone was opening a wound he thought closed.

Who was doing this to him? He didn't dream a lot and when he did it was never as weird as what he was experiencing. Was this some potion's side effect? Was he still alive and trying to recover on some bed at St Mungo's? Was Hermione crying next to his body?

Maybe he was not dead, not yet. Maybe he was just dying at the moment.

"Hermione!" he shouted and was able to hear his voice echoing in the endless passage.

Ron tried to go back to the other side of the tunnel without much success. He kept floating to his left, pulled, dragged.

The memories didn't stop. Percy clinging to Fred's lifeless body changed into the room of requirement, with fire everywhere. Then the kiss.

_Merlin, it took way too long..._

Things didn't get easier once the final battle was left behind. He thought he was going to destroy that bloody tunnel the moment he heard Hermione's yells and the images of him desperately shaking the door at the Malfoy's dungeon.

That bloody locket he loathed so much didn't take long to appear either, "I have seen your heart, and it is mine," the cold whisper made him shiver. Then, Ron exploded in anger at himself as he relieved the day he left Harry and Hermione at the tent.

It was too much at once. He couldn't understand why this was happening to him.

Mad-eye was gone and so was Dumbledore, then Ron saw Harry kissing his sister in front of everybody in the common room. Lavender came next. He wanted to turn away, he wanted to skip that part, but he couldn't.

What was the point of all this? Was he ever going to stop going backward?

Sirius Black fell through the veil and Dolor Umbridge was yelling about something that Ron didn't care about when another idea formed in his head. What if something in the Time Room was giving him the visions? Maybe that bloody mirror or maybe something else from that queer room.

The mirror. Were these only visions or was this what time travel felt like? He wouldn't know, Harry and Hermione never mentioned anything like this after third year.

Ron dismissed the idea of travelling back in time as if it was rubbish. He was trying to convince himself of that when he saw Harry appearing at the end of the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric's numb body beneath him.

He had to stop this, he couldn't keep going back and he couldn't stay there either. It didn't matter if it was real or just a dream. Ron had to return.

Desperately, he tried to walk back. However, the images on the tunnel were distracting him, dragging him further in the same direction. A younger version of himself was throwing stupid yells at Hermione after the stupid Yule Ball. The dragons, the goblet, Krum, the Quidditch Cup... all of it was gone as fast as it had arrived.

And still, Ron couldn't stop moving.

The rat, Lupin, his stupid rows about Crookshanks... When would it end? What if he actually arrived at the point where he was born? What would happen then? If he was still unconscious in the outside world, would he die then?

With the trip to Egypt lightning the tunnel, Ron tried to remember what happened after he touched that liquid wall. He made a great effort but couldn't recall that part of the fight, or being taken to St. Mungo's for that matter. He kept trying but those memories just weren't there. Only that man's eyes were there. Only the mirror.

The mirror. He couldn't be travelling back in time. He just couldn't.

All around him, the tunnel kept going. It showed Harry bringing Ginny out of the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione petrified, and then Myrtle. The duelling club was next, followed by Hermione preparing the Polyjuice Potion...

Ron had to do something, he didn't want to go to a point where he didn't have Hermione in his life. What could he make of his life if she wasn't in it?

After Lockhart was gone, Quirrell appeared, and, with him, a huge chessboard formed in the tunnel. Hagrid's dragon flew away, the flap of its wings covering big chunks of the tunnel at once. Soon Ron was staring at the troll fight and the exact moment when he and Harry became friends with Hermione. He wanted the tunnel to stop and started yelling and thrashing uncontrollably, even when nothing seemed to be happening.

Ron was sorted into Gryffindor and when he saw the blue image of Hermione appearing in his compartment for the very first time he lost it. He couldn't take losing her. Ron shouted, with lungs he didn't seem to have, shaking his world so hard that he eventually passed out of the effort. No other images appeared. Only black.

It wasn't clear how much time it had passed before Ron regained consciousness. It had seemed like an eternity later, but, at the same time, it was barely a heartbeat.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked a voice, which echoed with some distortion.

Then, all at once, Ron was hit by a sudden light. The shapes turned sharper, shocking him on the spot. He was sitting on a train compartment, no different from the ones in the scarlet train to Hogwarts. There was a window to his right and a black-haired boy with round shaped glasses looking at him, quite puzzled.

Ron almost fell by the surprise, even when he knew he had been calmly seated not two seconds ago. He put his hands on the seat, to steady himself, as his eyes moved frantically in all directions. He was about to look for his wand when he spared another look at the boy in front of him.

"Ha—Harry?" Ron asked, noticing the boy's forehead. It couldn't be though. Harry Potter was his age, not a young boy like the one in front of him.

There was something off with all of it, even Ron's voice sounded different.

"Eh... yes, are you alright?"

Ron wanted to know what in Merlin's baggy pants was going on. Was this some sort of trap? It didn't make sense. Ron had been unconscious, If the American had wanted to kill him, he would be dead by now. Ron realized that his body didn't hurt either, not even his arm.

"I'm alright. But you? Why— I mean, how? And Dolohov?" Ron mumbled, confused.

Harry's eyes widened, he looked worried, "Dolo— what? What do you mean? We're on our way to Hogwarts."

"To Hogwarts?! And why the hell are we—"

It was then that Ron touched his right arms, looking for the wound. He even pulled his sleeve up and discovered that not only there were no signs of the wound but that his arm was actually pretty small. Swiftly, he turned to the window of the compartment and he was shocked by his reflection on the glass.

_Bloody hell._

Ron was young, like a kid. This couldn't be happening. Was he dreaming? He pinched himself, trying to wake himself up, which turned up to be useless.

Meanwhile, Harry had raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure you're alright?"

"I— yes, positive. What were you asking again?" Ron said rubbing his temples, he needed to play along with it until he found out more.

"I asked if everyone in your family was a wizard."

So, first year. It made sense, after all, he was having a vision of first year when he had passed out in that tunnel. It was turning blurry, but he could still remember that. Ron couldn't be back in time though, that would be a disaster. He needed to stay positive. Maybe this was a vision of some sort, or a dream.

He relaxed a bit once he was able to locate his wand in his pocket. Although, that faded somewhat after he realized it was not the red oak wand he had bought from Ollivander after the war but Charlie's old wand.

"Err yeah, let me... just give me a second," Ron said, taking a long breath before continuing. "Yes, we are. A wizarding family that is. Well, Mum has a second cousin who's an accountant. We never talk much about him though," he answered doubtfully waiting to see if there was any weird reaction from the boy, but he didn't notice anything off.

It appeared as if the boy in front of him was truly an eleven-year-old Harry Potter. As nervous and unsure of his readiness for Hogwarts as Ron had been back then. The future Harry was different in so many ways, but his confidence had never felt more evident than now. The younger Harry was nowhere near there.

Looking at the eager boy, Ron couldn't stop but remember the conversation he had with his older self back at the Ministry, right under the shadow of the _Black Memorial_. That was before someone blasted the ruddy thing to pieces of course, before everything went down in shambles. It felt like ages ago already.

_A lousy last day at work, by all means_ , Ron thought.

"You must know loads of magic then— are you sure you're alright?" the young Harry asked.

"Yes. Never been better! Just got a bit queasy, nothing to worry about," !" Ron hurried, trying to sound casual. "I've seen a lot of magic, mind you, but haven't used much myself. I guess I don't have such a big advantage there," he said knowing what young Harry was thinking.

Why was he trying to reassure the boy though? The Harry in front of him couldn't possibly be his old friend. Accepting that would be like accepting that the ruddy mirror did send him to the past. And he couldn't do that. Not yet.

Harry gave Ron a weak smile, apparently unaware of Ron's internal turmoil. There was no sign of him being fake so far.

Trying not to panic, Ron made his best to get the conversation going. He tried to remember who was supposed to talk then, he had to remain in control of things. It was difficult though, he remembered some things from back in first year, yet the memories were old and fuzzy. Ron didn't know what would happen if he messed things up. Would something bad happen to the timeline then? No, if it was a dream, but what if it was real? Ron shoved that thought out of his head. It couldn't be, it had to be a dream.

"I wish I had three wizard brothers. I grew up with Muggles and they were horrible, well at least my uncle, aunt, and cousin are," Harry said after the silence.

"Well I have... five," said Ron with a smile that soon faded when he turned to the compartment door. Was Fred going to appear on that door or did he already come by? Would the dream last long enough to see him at the castle?

For the first time, Ron thought that it might not be such a bad thing, to be in the past that was. Maybe he could see Fred before returning to his own time. Would that be so bad?

"The smallest of changes can have catastrophic consequences", Hermione would say.

Even so, Ron kept staring at the door, something which wasn't missed by Harry. Ron hurried to the conversation before the boy could say anything else, "Bill and Charlie are the eldest, they already left Hogwarts. There's also Percy and the twins, F—Fred and George," Ron sighed trying to remember the conversation as best as he could. "Oh yeah, they were all great. Head boy for Bill, Charlie was Quidditch captain and Percy was—is prefect now. The twins are also brilliant. I have a lot to live up to."

He didn't know if Harry could notice something, it would be best if he didn't. Even so, Ron couldn't speak truthfully with him. Even if it wasn't just a trap, the young Harry would think him nuts if he suddenly started talking of the future and such.

Then something came to Ron, "Oh there's also Ginny, she's my younger sister. She's not coming to Hogwarts until next year."

Ron didn't know if he had mentioned Ginny the first time around, but he decided to go for it now. In truth, it was difficult to picture his sister as a little girl now. After all, the last time he saw her she was very pregnant and married to the boy sitting in front of him.

"Oh, it must be nice to have such a big family."

"It is, just a little crowded at times," Ron answered.

He waited. Now what? Harry was silent again. Was Ron supposed to say something more? He got the feeling he was missing some part. Then he felt his jacket move and he knew what it was.

_Wormtail_. Ron frowned and pulled the rat out of his pocket, "This is Scabbers," he said glaring at the rat, "I got it from Percy. It's just a stupid useless rat though. Percy got an owl so I got Scabbers instead."

Ron made as if the rat was slipping from his fingers, then let it fall and stepped on its tail as if by accident. Nothing too heavy, but enough to make it squeak. Then, he forced the rat back into his pocket.

If this was all real then the rat was a wizard in disguise. A despicable man called Peter Pettigrew, an _animagus_ who could turn himself into an animal. His animagus form was a rat, which suited him perfectly. Wormtail was a traitor who had befriended Harry's parents only to stab them in back, giving their location away to Voldemort. He also made another one of his former friends take the blame. An innocent was in prison at that very moment because of Wormtail. Sirius Black.

It was awkward to think Sirius was alive somewhere in Azkaban, paying for Wormtail's crime. Could he really be though? If this was just a vision maybe there was nothing outside of the compartment. Maybe it was just Harry and him.

Moments later Harry mentioned Voldemort, which made Ron remember the Taboo on the evil wizard's name. That magic allowed Voldemort to track his enemies, just by the sole mention of a word.

"Some people are scared of the name," he said.

"You don't seem to."

Ron shrugged, "I mean, it's just a name."

Even so, as Ron said the last thing, he avoided Harry's eyes. He couldn't keep but think that Voldemort was alive as well. Ron didn't want to believe it, still, if these were not mere visions then that monster was out there. It was likely a safe bet that Dolohov had that in mind when he started this whole thing. The Death Eater had planned to be here instead of Ron all along. The idea of Dolohov bringing Voldemort back made Ron pale. At least by being here, Ron stopped that prick from reaching his ruddy goal.

As time passed, Ron got more anxious. Things were way too real to be a dream. He didn't know if he was really back in time. He didn't know if there was a spell or a certain way to be sure of it either. If Hermione was here she would know for sure, she always did. Ron, on the other hand, had no clue whatsoever about what he was supposed to do to get out of this situation.

He wanted to return to his own time, that was a given. He didn't want to be a kid again, he wanted to be back with his wife. At that thought, he moved his eyes to the compartment door, wondering how much time would it take for his eleven-year-old wife to appear there.

The train went on with its restless pace. Its rumbling felt real too. As real as the landscapes that kept racing through the window.

The cart of sweets didn't take long to appear, and Harry of course bought a whole stack of candy for them, just like last time. Seeing that cart and the woman increased Ron's fears. He had peeked outside without finding anything odd, only the old corridor at Hogwarts Express. Then they opened the chocolate frogs and Ron saw Nicolas Flamel's name. Everything was too bloody real now.

That man, the American, he couldn't have come up with this, Ron realized in terror. He didn't know of Ron's first conversation with Harry, or the chocolate frog card for that matter.

Ron was trying to remember that mirror when Neville appeared and interrupted his musings. His hands were shaking. He kept staring at the compartment's door even after the round-faced boy left, as if it was a blast-ended skrewt waiting to explode. Could it be possible? Was Neville going to return with her?

Harry didn't miss that, "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Err... nothing! Was just thinking about that toad, I guess."

Ron had his eyes fixed on Harry when he heard the door slide open. His heart skipped a beat.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," her voice echoed in the compartment and Ron's eyebrows jumped to the top of his forehead. He was staring at Harry, not daring to look at her yet.

"We haven't seen it," Harry answered.

Ron turned swiftly, unable to keep his eyes away from the compartment door any longer. And there she was, standing normally as if this was not some twisted joke of fate. As if she had never seen Ron in her entire life. Hermione, the eleven-year-old version of her, had her robes already on and her brown hair was as bushy as ever. Her front teeth were pretty large too.

"Eh—well— Is there something wrong?" Hermione asked Ron, surely confused about the way he was staring at her.

"No, It's just— You look a lot like someone I know," Ron answered.

"Is that so?"

Ron nodded, as the young girl stared at him with a haunting curiosity.

Hermione paused only briefly before continuing, "Are you two from wizarding families? Neville is. Nobody in mine is magic at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harry turned to Ron. He wished he could tell Harry that she wasn't that bad.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course— I got a few extra books. for background reading, you're in _Modern Magical History,_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ —"

"Am I?" said Harry, looking dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad either. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon..."

Even when the situation was unreal, Ron couldn't stop enjoying the exchange. The young girl certainly felt like his younger wife and not a vision. Which only complicated things.

Hermione's eyes found Ron then, "Oh you didn't tell me your name," she said, with that curious look her older self still had. A look Ron was very fond of.

_Merlin, I missed her,_ Ron thought. It certainly felt like more than a day since he left her by that fireplace.

"Ron. Ron Weasley," he answered.

"Nice to meet you, Ron."

And she left with Neville, just like that.

Ron was not willing to say anything bad about the girl this time so Harry was the one to break the silence, "What house are your brothers in?"

"Gryffindor," said Ron, "Mum and Dad were in it too. All Weasleys are."

Ron knew Hermione was not going to return, so he explained to Harry about houses and something more about his brothers in a more relaxed tone. That was until the compartment door opened again and he couldn't keep from snorting.

"Is it true?" Draco Malfoy said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at Crabbe and Goyle at Malfoy's sides. Ron had forgotten how much they looked like his bodyguards, there was nothing they could say or do that would scare Ron though.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the git carelessly, "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron rolled his eyes. The future Slytherin boy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He moved his eyes to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Ron would have loved to hex Malfoy's slimy face into next week, however, having Harry putting his ruddy arse in its place was just too good to miss. When the blond boy extended his hand and Harry didn't take it, Ron smiled.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Malfoy said looking pink. "Unless you're a bit more polite, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"Shut up you ferret," Ron said.

Malfoy turned red, "How dare you to talk to me like that, you don't know who you're dealing with."

"Oh yeah? And who's that? Your Daddy? Your bodyguards? Because you don't look that menacing, really," Ron grinned gripping his wand. He was enjoying this, waiting for Malfoy to do or say the wrong things. As he knew he would.

Harry looked surprised for a moment, yet he backed him up, "Get out now, we don't want you here."

"But we won't go now. We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs. Ron knew he could just move Scabbers forward and everything would be more or less the same as last time. He didn't want anything from that rat though.

In a second Ron took out his wand, and, without thinking about it, he threw three non-verbal Leg-Locker curses. Naturally, they all fell to the floor shouting and Harry was left staring at him in awe. Ron was suddenly afraid of having messed things up. He had said he didn't know much about magic and there he was, throwing stuff like that like a prat.

"You useless fool!" Malfoy yelled on his way down.

"Keep that bloody mouth shut Malfoy. You don't want to eat dust, do you?" Ron said.

Harry was looking at Ron with great surprise, "How did you—"

"Fred and George. They do it all the time. I'll teach you later if you want, it's not that difficult," Ron said quickly, hoping Harry wouldn't ask anything more.

Harry was smiling when Hermione appeared at the door, "What's going on in here!?"

Ron was terrified and he quickly lifted the curses, of course verbally. "Sorry, they started it."

Had Hermione returned last time? Ron couldn't remember.

The girl was frowning as Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle stood up, "But— you shouldn't— how?" she was looking confused as Malfoy turned with a murderous glare to Ron.

"This is not over Weasley!" and they walked out pushing Hermione out of the way, "Step aside."

Ron was enraged by it. He couldn't forget what happened to her at the ferret's house. So, forgetting where he was, Ron shouted, "Keep your filthy hands away from her!"

Draco Malfoy stopped only for a bit, "Ha! don't tell me that you fancy her Weasley."

After a frown, Ron pointed his wand at them, which was enough to have them bolting away. When he turned to look at Hermione he saw her cheeks had a slight tone of pink to them, looking as confused as Harry. Ron was just making one mistake after the other now.

"Are you fine?" he asked his future wife.

"I am, but, you shouldn't—" Hermione was frowning again, "Did you do that with their legs?"

Harry nodded.

"You could be in trouble even before getting to Hogwarts! You shouldn't be doing that!"

Before Ron could apologize or say something else Harry spoke out loud, "We didn't get into trouble, did we? Nobody's here."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't wrong!"

Harry sighed, as if annoyed, "We still got some sweets, let's go Ron."

"I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, he says we're nearly there. It's not the time for sweets— or fighting!" Hermione replied.

"You heard us already. We didn't start it!" Harry insisted, "And it's our business if we have time for sweets."

What had just happened? Was Harry being the rude one? This was odd and completely unexpected. He didn't know what to do, this certainly was different from what happened in his first year.

Hermione snorted and turned to Ron. He didn't want to upset her but he couldn't go against Harry either. If he did so what would happen then? Would they still be friends? They had just met each other.

The girl was waiting for an answer from Ron, but when he shrugged she stormed out of their sight. Ron's only option was to return with Harry, feeling awful about Hermione. He felt guilty and even considered going after her. However, he had barely crossed a word with the young girl and that would look suspicious.

When the voice echoed announcing their arrival, Ron sighed, unsure of what was coming now.

Once the train stopped in front of Hogsmeade station, Harry followed Ron into the cold air. The scene Ron saw there startled him some. It was the exact same he remembered, all to the very last detail. It made him uneasy. He never imagined he would be arriving at the Hogsmeade station like this ever again. The pack of students rushing from one side to the other and talking about their holidays was overwhelming, surreal even.

It turned even more unsettling once he saw Roger Malone passing not five feet away from him. The colour drained from his face. Ron remembered the boy among the victims of the Battle of Hogwarts, yet he looked alive and cheerful now.

At that moment though, a familiar voice took him out of his shock, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Ron wanted to smile at Hagrid's younger face, but he was still half-stunned. Still haunted by Roger, who had vanished through the sea of students. As a ghost would.

Since the moment he realized where he was, when he was, Ron had considered that he might see people he thought dead before — Merlin, he hadn't stopped thinking on Fred. However, seeing it from up close was a new feeling altogether.

How many more people he thought dead would he be seeing?

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid yelled as they followed him through a familiar path. Neville sniffed a couple of times, farther from him Ron saw Ernie following some other kids with familiar faces.

For Ron, it was hard to digest all that was happening. Being in the past didn't felt as unlikely anymore.

As they moved towards the boats Ron tried to find his brothers without much luck. Many people were moving around hastily and the twins were probably by the thresthals already. On the train, he had been too scared to go and look for Fred, even when the idea of seeing him alive excited him plenty.

What could he even say to Fred though? It was a barmy business, for years he had wished he could hear one of his brother's jokes just one more time but now he felt paralyzed at the possibility. As he had been paralyzed by Roger Malone.

How could so many things look as in some of his best memories and still feel foreign to him? How could the station sound and smell exactly as it was supposed to and at the same time not feel like the same one at all?

There was also Hermione. Ron couldn't keep out of his head the need to make peace with her, even if he wasn't supposed to. He noticed her in the station, walking not far away, not even looking back at him. It was wrong.

Only hours ago Ron had been fighting Death Eaters at the Ministry and his only thought had been going back to Hermione. The urge of looking at her at least one last time kept him alive. He yearned for the wife he left standing by the fireplace, worried and in a nightgown, her hair all messy. The eleven-year-old girl that he found was not what he had expected.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" but Ron remained silent. He only stared at the castle with fascination.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron took one of those boats followed by Neville, Hermione came after. When the girl saw them she frowned, as if considering looking for a different boat.

Hagrid noticed Hermione standing out of Ron's boat, "Wha's the problem? Need help to get in the boat girl?" he asked her, Hermione shook her head and stepped in, sitting as far away from Harry and Ron as possible. "Right then - FORWARD!"

Ron's smile disappeared. It didn't matter if she was just a girl, that was his wife and it hurt him that he couldn't go and talk to her as naturally as he did with her older self. At that moment reality hit him. Hermione didn't know who he really was. Neither did his family. He was alone.

What could he do now? Who could help him if this was truly the past? Dumbledore? The idea made him uneasy. Something told him the old headmaster would just try to erase his memories. He didn't want that.

With a soft rocking, the boats crossed the great lake in silence. The air was cold and crisp. The castle of Hogwarts extended before them, as splendid as ever. Hermione glared at Harry most of the way while Ron threw occasional glimpses to the girl. Neville was just confused.

Ron had already dismissed the idea of a dream, this was too detailed and magnificent. He never had any dream like this before, he was not that creative. The chilly gust and breeze in the lake felt quite real too.

Honestly, he was terrified. Much more scared of facing this reality than of fighting Death Eaters. At least that he could understand, he knew how to deal with attackers. This… this was too much.

If it wasn't a dream, then what did he need to do to return to his old life? Ron could cause so many problems just by being here and he didn't want to stay either way.

Soon they reached the harbour and continued their way, climbing the stone steps towards the castle. Neville found his toad there, exactly as last time. Once in front of the very familiar oak door, Hagrid turned to them.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Ron took a deep breath. His heart was beating just as fast as it had been at the Ministry. He knew perfectly well what was coming and he was still pretty confused about it, feeling more lost than the very first time he stood before those heavy doors.


	7. A Hatter's Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron sees ghosts before the sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades(ffnet) who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.

Ron couldn't believe how he ever thought McGonagall looked old back on his first day. The witch had her years of course, but when he had last seen the future headmistress of Hogwarts, Ron remembered a good number of grey hairs on her. The woman who now stood before the first years had her hair completely black and didn't look as wrinkled as she would twelve years later.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

When the professor opened the door wide and gave them their first look at the entrance hall, Ron realized he was by far the less surprised face there. It was not that Hogwarts walls and stairways had stopped being impressive, none at all, however, after so many years Ron was kind of used to them. They never left him, even after his last year there.

Images came to him, memories of the same hall, but broken down and filled with debris. Ron could almost hear the cracking of the tiny rocks under his feet and the cries of anguish all around. It felt as if the very sound had travelled here with him.

This was a different time though. These walls knew no war yet. The children around him admired the stunning building mostly in silence.

Ron had come to realize that everything around him was way too detailed to be part of any illusion. He was really back in time, that was the only possible explanation. Ron shivered at the thought and moved forward.

As Professor McGonagall walked them across the flagged stone floor, Ron wondered about what he was going to do now. Could he return to his own time? He hoped so, but he had to do it before he altered anything. Time should not be changed. Hermione had said that more times than he could remember.

The roar of the entrance to the Great Hall reached them. While everyone else was wondering what was on the other side, Ron could almost see the magnificent ceiling through the solid rock. He was the only one who didn't stay there making wild theories of what was beyond those walls. He followed Professor McGonagall. He knew the small room where they were heading.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the teacher. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Ron saw the stern look on the witch move to Neville and then to himself. He was startled, for a moment he thought she was going to say something to him, maybe that she knew who he was and where he had come from. However, McGonagall soon moved her eyes away and talked again.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber, and Ron sighed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked.

"It's a little test, so I've heard. Nothing complicated. It's not like they're going to make us fight a ruddy troll or anything," he answered.

Harry's eyebrows went up, as he surely hadn't considered the possibility of fighting a troll. Ron thought of trying to ease his friend's nerves a bit more, but he decided against it. He had told Harry that he didn't know how they were sorted, anything he said now would probably just give the boys weird ideas to muse over.

The nervous whispers flooded through the small room because Harry wasn't the only nervy boy around. Anthony Goldstein was chatting hurriedly with Michael Corner somewhere on the left, while Dean couldn't stop looking in all directions a few feet away from their place.

Ron was quite anxious as well, though his reasons for that were completely different from everyone else's. He knew the sorting was a simple affair, which — contrary to what the twins had said — didn't involve fighting trolls. Nevertheless, Ron had plenty of other things to worry about, namely being in the past in his eleven-year-old body.

 _Stuck in the past. What a blasting luck. Almost as bad as being stuck at aunt Muriel's,_ Ron thought. However, the inner joke didn't do much for him.

There was not much Ron knew about time travel, mostly what he had gathered from Hermione's musings about her project. Even so, he knew he wasn't supposed to change anything while he was in the past. It was like the most important of all its bleeding rules. A small thing could mess things big time, he was sure. How could he go about with that? How could he remember all that he had done and said so many years ago? It was impossible!

"It can't be a difficult test, can it? We just arrived here," a mute voice caught Ron's attention. It was Dean, who was now questioning Terry Boot.

Once more, Ron skimmed at the young faces around him. He knew those faces, he had seen older versions of them plenty of times before coming back. He found Seamus rather easily, the boy was looking as if he had just seen a werewolf. When Ron had last seen him, Seamus had been quite chuffed with himself though, throwing a party to celebrate his new gig at the Daily Prophet. Ron looked past Seamus and, on the other side of the room, he saw Hannah Abbott exchanging cautious words with Sally-Anne Perks. Ron hadn't heard much of Hannah lately, but Sally-Anne had worked with Hermione in her previous position at the Ministry. The girl had been pulled out of Hogwarts at some point in fifth year because her mother was afraid of Voldemort's return. Funny how they never saw that as a clear sign that the Perks believed Dumbledore and Harry over the Ministry.

It was a queer feeling for sure, knowing so much about his future classmates when they didn't even know his name. Most of them would know Harry though.

Turning to his side, Ron noticed that Harry was rather quiet, even if somewhat unsettled. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts for a moment, but then he frowned as his eyes found Hermione. The girl was muttering some spells, or at least that was what Ron could guess from the distance. His heart was beating fast and, when the girl turned to him for a quick instant, he was surprised.

Had she turned to look at him last time? Or was this about what he did on the train? Ron was frightened, he could have changed time already. And that would be a bloody disaster.

Many times Hermione had mumbled about things that Ron couldn't follow. After they married it became a little different because she usually asked his opinion even when he didn't have a clue of what she was rambling about. Maybe it helped her to voice her theories out loud, or to have someone listening to her. Ron did catch a few things here and there though and, if there was something he had learned from her work with the _unspeakables_ , was just how dangerous time travel could be.

Ron felt like the worst possible person to be in his spot at the time. He was so going to say or do the wrong thing. He just knew it. What if he said something he wasn't supposed to and, because of it, Neville ended up marrying Pansy Parkinson in the future? How would he apologize for that?

At that moment, the screams brought Ron out of his thoughts.

"What's that—?" someone started.

The Hogwarts' pearly-white ghosts came gliding through the air, immersed in their ghostly conversations. Just as last time.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance," said the Fat Friar.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost— I say, what are you all doing here?"

The ghosts' attention had turned towards the students.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar smiling, "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

Mute nods came from some of the first years.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Ron could have told the Friar then the exact students who were going to end up in Hufflepuff. He skimmed the room looking at the other first years around him, thinking about finding Justin Finch-Fletchley or Susan Bones. However, he found more ghosts instead.

Of all the future Hufflepuffs, Roger Malone was the one who was the closest to the Friar. Even when the ghost had brought a high-pitch tone out of the boy, he still seemed more dead than alive to Ron.

Back at Hogwarts, Roger had been a figure as distant to Ron as Sally-Anne. He couldn't remember having crossed two words with either of them through his school years. Still, Sally-Anne had taken no part in the battle and Ron had talked to her once or twice after the war. He never had that chance with Roger Malone. The only real memory Ron could form of the boy was seeing him lying lifeless on the cold stones of the Great Hall. It gave Ron an uncomfortable feeling, guilt most likely. He had spent so much time near Roger and he never talked to him. He didn't even know if the boy liked Quidditch or not. It had been even worse with Alice Tolipan, a girl who had died near Hagrid's hut and who was now alone in a corner. Unlike Roger, Alice had been in Gryffindor, so Ron had seen her plenty of times in the common room. And still, he never talked to her either.

"Move along now," said Professor McGonagall with a sharp voice, she had finally returned, "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

When the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall the professor faced the students again, "Now, form a line and follow me."

Still a tad uneasy, Ron took his place behind Harry. There, Seamus almost crashed with him on the line and when Ron turned to face him he saw the most unexpected thing so far. Lavender Brown passed right in front of him, as the most blurry of all ghosts.

Ron paled. His eyes grew and couldn't form an intelligible thought. Just images. Lavender kissing him. Lavender yelling something at him. Lavender falling to the floor. Fenrir Greyback with blood in his mouth. Hermione's spell. And then, finally, Lavender's unfocused eyes, looking at nothing.

"Is there something wrong?" McGonagall asked, noticing that Ron had stopped the line.

"Er, no professor. Sorry," Ron hurried, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.

He turned back again, but Lavender was gone. So Ron tried to clear his mind and follow on. He made his way to the Great Hall, where he would surely find more ghosts.

Once they walked out of the chamber into the Great Hall, Ron's eyes were the first to move up, knowing the image that was about to come. The ceiling was as magnificent as ever, totally open to the heavens, or so it appeared to be. The thousands of candles floating in the air brought pleasant memories back to him. Memories he cherished.

Not far away, Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

Ron was torn. A part of him wanted to smile at Hermione's comment and continue admiring the Great Hall's ceiling, but another one was deeply unsettled. He had too many things in his head. He didn't know how to return or how to act while he found a way to do it. And, on top of that, he couldn't decide if he should say something to Lavender or was just terribly afraid of seeing her again.

It was strange. But just before the sorting, when one could feel the most like a first year, Ron couldn't stop thinking about how much he didn't belong there. How wrong everything was.

All of that changed in a second because Ron's eyes moved to the tables and his heart skipped a beat. There, on the Gryffindor side, two people grabbed his attention. The twins were cheering like the rest of the people there, as if nothing could ever end their joyful grins. Ron couldn't stop staring.

He was forced to look away a moment later, as the nervous kids behind him kept pushing him forward. However, Ron threw more glances at the twins on his way to the teachers' table, trying to see if he could distinguish Fred from George. It wasn't easy though, the twins were far away and George had still both of his ears. Ron didn't know if his brothers would notice him staring or if they would find it weird, but he just really didn't care. Everything was good for a moment. It was like the bloody war had never happened.

The sound of Professor McGonagall putting the stool on the floor caught his attention and Ron got his first glimpse at the dirty and patched fabric. The Sorting Hat.

It took Ron ten complete seconds but, when he realized it, he froze and his eyes opened wide. The blasting hat was going to know. It was going to discover that he was from a different time. It was going to tell Dumbledore. Ron didn't want anybody to know, not even the headmaster. He had the hopeful idea of returning to his own time before he changed anything. Not even Dumbledore should know about the future after all.

Ron threw a cautious glance at the wizard, thinking about what the old man could do if he found out about him. That was his first look at the teachers' table.

The professors there gave him all kinds of memories, but the most confusing ones came when he caught sight of Snape. Ron didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Snape had been crucial for their success and, in some way, he was a person worthy of admiration. Nevertheless, Ron couldn't keep himself from thinking how much of a prick he was.

Then he shivered. Quirrell was there too. Voldemort.

Now what? Was Ron supposed to go back and let things flow as last time? With Voldemort around the students? What about Snape and Fred or even Cedric? Was he supposed to just let them die?

His next thought was abruptly interrupted by a singing hat.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst in applause except for Ron, the thoughts of Quirrell and Voldemort still racing wild in his head.

He wondered if he should stop it all at then, before the hat found out about him. He could try and make things different, better. A lot of possible futures formed in his head and all of them included Fred still living after the war. However, the more he thought about it, the more he feared getting a different future.

He just couldn't. He couldn't change things, that's what Hermione would have said and he knew perfectly well why. So many things could go wrong, worse than before. He didn't want to think of a future where Fred lived but Hermione died. That would tear him apart.

It felt wrong to choose though.

Ron was conflicted looking at his brother. Fred was talking lively at the Gryffindor table, unaware of the fate that was awaiting him. Couldn't he just warn him or something? Couldn't they have the exact same future but with Fred in it?

He felt so selfish at that as he turned to look at Harry. What about him? He lost people too, what about Sirius? Everybody else lost someone and he was only thinking about Fred. The Black Memorial was filled with names, not only his brother's. Roger's, Alice's and Lavender's names were there too. Ron moved his eyes to the Hufflepuff table and there he found Cedric. He was happy, he didn't know.

Harry's voice took him by surprise, "So do we have to..."

It took a while for Ron to understand, but he nodded, trying to keep his voice straight. "Yes, we have to try it on,"

"Oh, that doesn't seem too complicated."

 _Greatly depends on the opinion talking hats had of lost time travellers,_ thought Ron.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding the roll of parchment. With a lot of pain, Ron made up his mind. He was going to take his chances with that hat and, at his first shot, he was going to return to his own time. He didn't belong here. He needed to let Fred go. One more time.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

 _Hufflepuff_ , Ron thought to himself.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

One by one they walked to the stool. No matter how quickly the hat shouted, Ron always knew where everybody was going to end up before the fact. When Lavender's name was mentioned though, Ron shivered. He tried not to look at her until she was happily seated at the Gryffindor's table.

Millicent Bulstrode went to Slytherin, then Michael Corner took his expected place at the Ravenclaw table. At one point Ron stopped paying much attention to them, deciding instead to continue looking at the Great Hall, and, occasionally, at his brothers by the Gryffindor table.

He knew what was coming though, and, just after Goyle made his way to the Slytherin table, he heard the name he had been waiting for.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Ron was nervous, there were still no changes in the sorting but he was suddenly afraid that their encounter on the train had somehow altered Hermione's house. He couldn't have changed that, right? He didn't know what he would do if Hermione didn't end up in Gryffindor.

The girl rushed to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. The seconds before the hat yelled felt terribly slow, overwhelming. It was like being back at the Ministry's Atrium where a lot could happen in no time.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Ron sighed in relief. In front of him, Harry made a gesture that he couldn't understand.

After Sue Li was sorted and Neville made his way to the front, Ron turned to look at Harry. His friend was getting edgier somehow. Ron tried to calm him down, yet there was not much he could do without saying that they were both going to be picked by Gryffindor. Or at least that was last time.

Ron was the one in real trouble. _The hat was going to know, the bloody hat was going to know..._

Neville ended in Gryffindor of course, which was another step in calming Ron down. However, he got an uneasy feeling when two names later Professor McGonagall called for Ernie Macmillan. Ron had almost forgotten about the fight at the Ministry for a moment, but it was hard not to remember it after seeing Ernie there. Had he been killed in Ron's timeline? Had those men got him before taking the Ministry's windows? Was he another person he was going to abandon by not changing the time?

Malfoy was picked for Slytherin and walked to his table shooting a murderous glare at Ron. He couldn't care less, Malfoy was the least of his problems.

Roger Malone soon headed to the Hufflepuff table, and Ron started to accept the idea of him not being a ghost anymore. Then Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Gryffindor, as Ron expected, and the hat voiced the name that was to silence the hall.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward nervously. Naturally, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Ron's friend sat on the stool for a while, with the whole hall tense and waiting for an answer. Eventually, the hat spoke and the right table burst in cheers. "GRYFFINDOR!" it said.

Percy shook Harry's hand and the twins began making a party out of him. Ron smiled. He knew he had to go back to his own time but at that moment all he wanted was to be there with them, at least for a while. He wanted to hear the twins talking again as only they could.

Not that he would be telling them that, mind you.

When Ron turned back to the front, Professor McGonagall was already calling Sophie Roper to the front. Ron's turn was coming. With each new name, he got more and more nervous. Dean and Alice both went to Gryffindor, but by then Ron was already feeling the sweat on his hands. Could he really destroy everything if he changed things? He would agree to go back but he didn't know how yet. What if by the time he made it back everything was beyond repair? What if he ended up losing somebody else from his family?

Among cheers and laughs, Emma Vane made her way to the Hufflepuff table. The moment had finally arrived.

"Weasley, Ron!"

Looking pale, Ron walked to the stool, remembering that last time it had only taken one second for the hat to shout. He was almost sure that it would take longer this time. He sat down and the old dirty hat fell gracefully over his eyes.

"Hmm, well, well, what do we have here?" he could hear the hat say. As far as his memory told him Ron hadn't heard it last time, "We have met before."

It was not a question.

"Y—Yes," said Ron without knowing if the hat would listen to him.

"I see, well you're pretty far away from home, aren't you? Hmmmm... The real question is what should I do with you?"

"Don't tell! I want to go back, I do, but I dunno how. I won't change things!" Ron pleaded.

"Don't forget I can see in your head, you're not entirely sure of those words. However, I can't help much with it either, difficult situation indeed..."

"I'm sure! I won't change things! I'll fix it, just don't tell Dumbledore. I'll fix it before he finds out," Ron's heart was racing. What if the hat didn't buy that? What if he turned him over to Dumbledore right at that moment?

The headmaster wouldn't stop to think about it, he would probably wipe away his memory, but Ron didn't like that option. He didn't want to forget, he wanted to have all his memories when he went back to his time. He loved those memories.

"I don't say to the headmaster things he doesn't ask, nor things that he doesn't need to know," The hat remained silent and then he spoke differently, "Well, we can't keep this going on forever, that much is true. Your mind is in the right place, Ronald Weasley. It is all here of course, I can see it. For everyone's sake, I hope you make the best decisions, especially now that you are going to... GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron was shocked, he didn't expect to be released from that conversation so suddenly. A moment later he was walking stunned to the roaring table of Gryffindor. What was going to happen? Would the hat really keep what he learned from the headmaster? He didn't know.

Dumbledore was on their side, that much was true. Even so, Ron still couldn't grab his mind around the knowledge that the headmaster had planned for Harry's death. Which was another reason why Ron was not that keen on talking to him.

Ron would never be able to do such a thing. It had been a cold plan and Ron didn't like the idea of gambling with someone's life like that. Especially Harry's. Also, he didn't have good luck keeping secrets lately. He had messed up George's surprise party, hadn't he?

By the time McGonagall called Blaise Zabini to the stool, Ron had reached the table. Harry was clapping and Percy didn't take long to congratulate him.

"Well done, Ronald, excellent," his brother said more pompously that he could remember.

In the future, Percy was a little different. Unconsciously Ron scratched his cheek, remembering his brothers' feat with the fur-growing trifle.

"Yeah, sure. Totally aced the siting part of it," Ron couldn't stop himself, earning a nasty look from his brother.

Then Ron was faced with the eerie and familiar feeling of the table. On one side Katie Bell was explaining something to Parvati and Seamus, while Angelina and Sally-Anne were already exchanging stories five seats away from Ron. Even a distant look at the other tables told Ron that everything was going on as it was supposed to. Behind his back, Audrey — Percy's future wife — was happily sharing something with a girl whose last name was Howard. Farther away still, Morag MacDougal was being introduced to her brother's friends at the Ravenclaw table.

Yes, everything was normal. Everything except him. Ron was the one out of place.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

"Welcome," Albus Dumbledore's voice echoed in the hall. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

"Is he— a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy.

"Mad? He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

It had been a very long time since Ron last found himself in front of so much food and yet wasn't so eager to try it out. It seemed like he got off the Sorting Hat problem, but that only meant that he had to deal with a bigger one now. Ron didn't know how to return to his own time. He should probably check in the library to see if he could find something there. He didn't know where to start though, he was not Hermione. Was there a book for dodgy time mirrors or stuff like that?

It was likely that the bloody mirror didn't even exist yet. After all, Hermione had only started working on it a few months ago.

The only thing that Ron was sure of was that he was not going to tell Dumbledore, not now when he didn't fully understand things. The old wizard was very capable of helping, but once in his office, it would all be in the headmaster's terms. And Dumbledore's first impulse would be to obliviate him.

Deep inside Ron knew he should keep his memories. His heart told him it was the right thing to do, though he wasn't sure if Hermione would agree with that.

Back at the table, Harry was eating eagerly at his side. Ron felt sad when looking at him. He could really use the older Harry's help now, he could use Hermione's too. However, Ron knew that he couldn't tell them, not if he wanted to keep the future unchanged. They were probably too young to deal with what he knew anyways.

Ron found himself unable to stop staring at Hermione. She was way too young and still needed to learn a lot of things, still, somehow, that young girl was his future wife. Hermione noticed the attention and threw Ron a weird look, so he forced his eyes away.

If Ron couldn't talk to Harry or Hermione, who did he have then? In a twisted way, Ron was way more alone than he had initially thought.

Nearly Headless Nick came and took Ron out of it. He was the only first year whose eyes didn't pop open when the ghost swung his head aside. Soon they were talking about the Quidditch cup and who they were. Ron tried his best to remember, to keep the conversation as casual and normal as he could. Once in a while though, he was distracted staring at many people around. He hadn't seen some of them in a long time, and he had thought he was never going to see a few others ever again. Fred was joking not far away.

"Ouch!" Harry suddenly clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N—nothing."

_If only a scar hurting could be nothing._

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry stared for a few seconds and Ron had to stop the urge to tell him that it was not Snape. It was never Snape.

Ron shivered a bit looking at Quirrell, still wondering what he was going to do. The purple of his turban stood up, as the purple of the spells the American man had thrown at him back at the Time Room. Ron hoped that man had been caught after he fell through the mirror, but it was also possible that his whole future was left in standby until he returned. Ron had no idea how that worked.

The man had been skilful and hadn't felt like a henchman at all. He had had an agenda of his own, Ron could tell. He didn't even catch his name, which fortunately didn't seem so important right now.

After the desserts were gone Professor Dumbledore stood up and addressed the whole room, "Ahern— just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" Ron's friend muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts; everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

Ron could almost see Fluffy, the three-headed dog, barking at them with its massive jaws.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. He gave his wand a little flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it. It rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

As always everybody finished the song at different times. The twins were the last ones and Dumbledore conducted them until the very end.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

They followed Percy all the way through the familiar path, marble staircases and all. Ron was smiling remembering all the moments he spent there, he even enjoyed Percy's exchange with Peeves much more than the first time. Soon they were all standing in front of the portrait of a familiar fat woman with a silk pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy answered. The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room; cosy, warm, and as full of squashy armchairs as ever.

The twins were not far away and Ron wanted to reach them, but they had said their goodbyes from the distance and climbed swiftly to their rooms. He wished he had had at least a few words with Fred, but following them would have looked unusual. Ron reminded himself that he needed to keep things the same. He could surely see them the next day.

His eyes followed a certain bushy-haired girl all the way to the girls' staircase, and then he climbed up to his own tower. Everything was just as he remembered, even the four-posters were placed in the exact same spot for all of them. He was the first to pick his bed, he didn't want anyone to beat him to his old bed.

Ron frowned at Scabbers when it moved around. He wanted to do something about the old rat, but he couldn't. Ron gritted his teeth thinking of Sirius. Another thing to feel bad about not changing.

"How are you doing?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"Brilliant," Harry answered in a low voice, and Ron saw him falling asleep almost instantly.

Ron smiled and let out a heavy sigh. He laid there on his bed, just looking at the top of it. He had to be very careful with what he was going to do, many things depended on him.

As he closed his eyes, he wished that in the morning he could wake up in his real bed, next to Hermione. He wished that everything since the attack on Azkaban had been nothing but a ruddy dream. He knew that it was not what he was going to find, but he didn't lose anything by hoping.


	8. The Halfblood Git

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron tries to be a first year again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades(ffnet) who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. Finally in Hogwarts. Nice, let's get this thing moving.

It was barmy business to be back at Hogwarts as a normal student. The walks through its wide halls felt more like a memory than anything else. Ron was a little anxious and sometimes even the laughs in the corridors made him wary. He feared that at any moment the world before his eyes would reveal itself as nothing more than someone else's sick joke.

That wasn't going to happen though, deep down he knew all of it was real. That mirror had somehow sent him twelve years into the past, to a world that wasn't his anymore. Harry's desperate yells, young Parker's lifeless body and that man's mismatched eyes were all out of his reach now.

Ron needed to return though, that much was true. The problem was that he didn't know how in Merlin's pants he was going to accomplish that. He was twelve years into the past, and, for all he knew, that time-travelling mirror was going to take a long time to be made. The young Hermione didn't have the knowledge to help him make a new one either. He was truly alone and there was no one to tell him what he should do.

It was all a ruddy mess. Even if by some twisted turn of fate he found out how to return soon enough, how was he going to say goodbye to Fred? Meeting him again had been almost too much to handle.

The first morning after the Sorting, Ron had practically dragged Harry to sit next to the twins. He couldn't have possibly waited any longer. For them, it had been a breakfast like any other, for Ron it had been so much more than that.

"As your older brother, I have to say, you got us worried for a moment," George had told him then.

"We thought the hat was running out of options for you, Ronnie." Fred completed.

Ron only shrugged at that, smiling. He just couldn't be mad at them.

"It took a long time with me too," said Harry.

"Well yeah, but you're Harry freakin' Potter, you must be interesting. Even for a hat."

"Bet its other head-wear friends are jealous right now."

The twins made Ron laugh whenever they joined them which was something that helped him a lot. He was so nervous about messing things up that a little relaxing time could do wonders for him.

Having Harry was good too. Ron would have preferred a lively chat with his older self but the young Harry brought something familiar that he was in no place to refuse. The easily-amazed boy was his old friend, more insecure and secluded at times for sure, but he was still Harry. Ron got along with him effortlessly, just as last time. Even so, it was hard to look at him without thinking of everything that was yet to come.

Like the previous time, whispers followed them since the moment they first left the dormitory. It was odd for Ron to be more used to them than Harry was now. His friend was annoyed and Ron felt sorry for him. Ron wanted to say that it wouldn't last long but he knew that was far from being the truth.

Apparently, Ron was back at being ' _that redheaded boy next to Harry Potter_ '. He hadn't been so anonymous in years and, surprisingly enough, he found it refreshing. Ron had been a renown hero for some time now and he had come to understand perfectly well all of Harry's complaints. In the future, there was no place in Magical Britain where Ron could go without being noticed, but now he was a simple Weasley again.

All in all, it was a good thing that people were not giving him too much attention. The very last thing he needed was to be noticed. Ron had to go back to his time and he had to do it soon, before he changed something or before someone could discover him.

Dumbledore was still not an option, so he decided to wait for the chance of solving the problem by himself. At least the hat didn't seem to have said anything to the headmaster yet.

Nevertheless, Ron made his first mistake as soon as the day after the Sorting. He guided Harry through Hogwarts as if it was the Burrow. Without thinking about it, he made sure they never got lost going from one classroom to the other. Ron knew the castle as well as the Cannons' lineup, so there was not a single first year who could reach any point sooner than them.

Hogwarts was exactly as he remembered. The fake doors, the moving staircases, the secret passages... It was like he never left. He was even able to know who was supposed to be in many of the portraits before looking at them.

"My brothers have talked about the castle for ages, I also have been lucky guessing a few tricky shortcuts," Ron used to say to Harry those days. His friend was certainly surprised at how fast Ron could move them through the halls.

It didn't take long for Ron to wonder if he was altering things by moving them like that, but by then Harry had already learned his ways around the castle. They didn't go unnoticed by Fred and George of course, who were impressed by how quickly they had found some secret passages.

"Not bad. Not bad at all Ronnie. Still, I don't think you know it all."

"There are many secrets in this old castle. Some of them are only known by us," added Fred with a wink.

Ron truly doubted that.

He heard them complete each other's sentences again, something he had thought he would never witness again. Every one of those times, he wondered about future-George. His brother always had Fred in his thoughts and Ron wished he could be here too. Seeing the twins joking again was enough to erase all the bitterness from before. It made Ron forget about fighting and shifty men of queer eyes for a while. However, there was something that he was still missing, something he couldn't live without. Hermione.

Ron's eyes followed her whenever she appeared. He missed her. Her older self. Even with Fred there he couldn't stop feeling like he wouldn't be complete until he had her in his life again. Hermione was his constant reminder that he had to return.

Unfortunately, his plan to return was not moving forward. Ron couldn't even go to the library to look for a solution. Harry was always with him, and the ginger didn't have any good excuses to leave him alone. Their friendship was just starting and it was crucial for the future, moving away from him would affect a lot. So, the best option he had was to continue things as normal. Hopefully, Harry would end up in the Quidditch team soon enough and his practices would give Ron the perfect opportunity to find out what was going on.

In the meantime, Ron had to be a first year again. He had to deal with Peeves, and Filch, and Malfoy, and he had to attend classes as well. He soon discovered that the difficult part was not doing those things, but keeping them as close to last time as possible. He didn't have a problem doing that on Herbology or History of Magic, where he could blend into the back of the classroom; however, once McGonagall's class arrived, he realized that he couldn't distract himself one bit.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," the old witch had said in her first class, "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

The beginning of the lesson, as well as most of the other classes, was plain boring. He knew all the things the professor was talking about, still, he couldn't just stand up and ask for a complex Transfiguration session. He pretended to read the basics in silence and, once the matches were out, he made lazy movements with his wand trying not to turn it into a needle on the first go.

Ron spared a quick glance around. Hermione was entirely focused on her task, while Sally-Anne Perks and Alice Tolipan sat behind her. Ron imagined the girls were just too intimidated by Hermione's enthusiasm in class to attempt any kind of friendship with her at the moment. It made Ron wonder what would have happened if he and Harry hadn't befriended her first. Would Hermione have made friends with them? Or would she have stayed alone through all of her school years?

He shook that rubbish away. Ron didn't want to think about Hermione being alone. It was bad enough as it was, knowing how lonely she would be these first weeks and not being able to talk to her. He couldn't imagine Hermione getting close to Lavender or Parvati, but he wanted to believe that she would have approached Sally-Anne at least. Or maybe Hermione would have made friends with Neville sooner.

Casually, Ron moved his eyes to the other side of the classroom, where Neville was swinging his wand as it was some kind of beater's bat. Ron winced. If Neville went on like that, he had a better chance of turning his wand into a needle than the match on his desk. Which was none, of course.

Ron couldn't befriend Neville either, he realized.

"Does it look any different to you?" Harry asked at his side, pulling Ron's attention back. Harry was frowning at his match, trying to see any noticeable difference.

There was none.

"It looks like a match, mate. I reckon it looks even less metallic now than it was when you first got it," Ron said. He wasn't going to lie to the boy.

Harry snorted, making Ron feel like a prat.

"Don't worry about it. No one else has got it yet," Ron said in a softer tone, "Maybe you need to focus a bit more, like thinking of the match transforming a little at a time. More security on the wand wouldn't hurt either, like this."

At those words, and without even thinking too much, Ron targeted his own match. His eyes sprung open because suddenly he had a pretty solid and shiny needle in front of him. His surprise wasn't about transforming the match, but about doing it on his second or third try. Harry was astounded as well. Only a few minutes have passed since McGonagall gave them the matches and not even Hermione was close to doing it.

"What do we have here?" the professor said approaching Ron's desk. "I must say I'm impressed, Mr. Weasley. I don't think I've ever seen a student doing this so quickly before."

Ron gulped. That was definitely not what happened last time.

As the professor raised the needle for everyone to admire, Ron remained pale in his seat. He knew he had done something wrong. Not far away, Hermione frowned and continued working on her own match. The girl was able to transform it a bit by the end of the class but she still threw some strange looks at Ron.

Being the first of the class was important to Hermione, especially to first-year Hermione. Ron couldn't take that away from her. He walked out of Transfiguration looking as if he had been the worst in class.

Lavender and Parvati passed them on their way out. Seeing Lavender still scared Ron, but much less so than during the Sorting. He couldn't talk to her either. And even if he could, how could he apologize for something that hadn't happened yet?

_Yeah, people thinking I'm mental is just the thing I need right now_ , he thought.

A few doors away, he stopped thinking of Lavender at once. Hermione was in the middle of the corridor, waiting for them. The girl was holding her book tightly against her chest, her eyes narrowed at Ron.

"H—Hermione?" Ron asked terrified, he couldn't remember this happening the last time. He took a step back and almost tripped over his robes.

"How did you do that?" the girl demanded.

"I— well, what do you mean?"

"The needle,"

"Oh, that. Er, it was in the book," Ron said, trying to not let his nervousness show.

"That was supposed to take us weeks, you did it during the first class," she insisted, "Have you been studying on your own? Did you look at a different book?"

Ron didn't know if she was angry or just curious. Next to him, Harry raised an eyebrow, he was looking at Ron too. "What? No, I only, I just followed the instructions, honestly," Ron mumbled.

Hermione didn't look convinced, "What of that thing you did on the train? You didn't say anything, no incantation whatsoever, nothing. You just did it."

The colour drained from Ron's face. He was supposed to look normal, he couldn't have Hermione suspecting something him in the first week. What was he thinking doing stupid non-verbal spells?

"I said it quietly, my brothers use that spell all the time, I—"

"Well, I was very close and I didn't hear a thing."

Ron was helpless, he didn't know what to do. To his fortune or misfortune, Harry came in his defence. "Can you knock it off already?" he asked quite annoyed, "He said that he did it, okay?"

Hermione was stunned by Harry's intervention. She appeared to be considering a reply, but instead, she huffed and walked away swiftly. Ron was unsettled, he didn't know if that had been a good or a bad thing but something inside was urging him to run after the girl. It would be easy to befriend her now, avoid her those lonely first weeks at school. However, the older Hermione would have told him to let the young girl go since he shouldn't be changing things.

Ron could almost hear his wife's voice, _"It's not a big deal. There are more important things. Let her go."_

After looking her turn on the next hallway, Ron shut his eyes and forced himself to stay with Harry. And they continued their way.

"I don't know what's her problem. Is she mad because you did the needle thing first?" Harry said moments later.

Ron shrugged. "I don't think so. She doesn't seem that bad," he said awkwardly, earning an odd stare from his friend.

It was then that Ron remembered the older Harry. When they last headed into the Department of Mysteries, Ron had tried to tease his friend about Hermione being right after all. Harry had cut him off, telling him that he knew that already.

The younger Hermione was right this time too. Ron hadn't said a single word when he used the non-verbal spell back at the train. However, Harry refused to doubt Ron even at this stage. The boy's trust certainly helped, but it made Ron uneasy too.

Harry was a special case regarding trust. He considered it an offence to doubt a friend, but he wasn't very forgiving with treason either. Would he stop talking to Ron if he found out the truth? If he knew Ron had been lying to him ever since the train?

Ron didn't want to find out.

It was a big bloody mess. He wanted to be able to talk to the younger Hermione, but, on the other hand, he couldn't afford to lose Harry's friendship. Maybe the best thing to do was wait for things to go back to the way they were before. Hopefully, they would be friends with Hermione once a certain mountain troll arrived.

Ron should be back at his own time by then, though.

Defence Against Dark Art hadn't been pleasant either. If they had a normal teacher Ron would have felt pretty much like in Transfiguration. He was an experienced auror after all. Nevertheless, it's not every day that you go willingly into a class with Voldemort behind the teacher's desk.

Seamus and Dean were the first in mocking the professor's apparent nervousness, and soon the whole class seemed to be absorbed in grinning at the weirdness of the stuttering Professor Quirrell. Not Ron though. He could see right through Quirrell. Ron kept a serious look, even on the goofiest or more pathetic behaviours of the man. Behind the turban and the pesky garlic scent, Ron could see who he truly was. He was a pretty good actor, he had to give him that, at moments it was hard to imagine he could be so dangerous. However, Ron was tense the whole class. Even when he knew that Quirrell wouldn't do anything then, Ron just couldn't lose the grip on his wand. Hermione and Harry were there and he had to be prepared, he couldn't let them be harmed.

Before he knew it, Quirrell's class was over. As the left, Ron released a large breath he wasn't had been holding. He followed Harry away, without saying a word, his mind still baffled with questions about his situation. Also, he might have been sweating.

What if the worst had happened? He wasn't Harry. He couldn't win a fight against Voldemort, much less in his eleven-year-old body.

Throughout the week, Ron complained about his bloody fate. Why did it have to be him? In his place, Harry would certainly be more prepared or would at least know how to improvise. Harry had the drive to get out of any hardship and land on his feet. If Hermione was in the past instead, she would be more cautious and would have found a perfect plan to return by lunch. What did Ron have instead? He had already made a mess out of McGonagall's class, and that was just the first week.

Regardless of all that, Ron tried to move on as best as he could. He spent the remainder of the week trying to answer all of Harry's questions about the Wizarding World and, to his own surprise, he was now helping him with his homework too. Ron was a bit lazy about actually writing the essays but at least he knew most of the answers there.

"Locomotor Mortis," Harry tried one afternoon. Ron was teaching Harry the Leg-locker curse. The boy could pin his legs together but he still needed to work on the strength of the spell. Ron could get away from Harry's curse quite easily.

"You'll get it by next week."

Maybe teaching Harry that spell so soon was changing things as well, but he couldn't get away from it. Harry kept asking about the time he used it on Malfoy and Ron had promised to teach him after all. He needed to prove that it was an easy spell for a first-year to know too. He didn't want Harry suspecting him any more about the train scene.

At the moment, what really worried Ron was the whole Transfiguration incident. That could surely change things in a big way. Every first year was talking about his feat with the needle and he even got a few words of surprise from the twins when it reached their ears. Percy seemed ready to guide him on the arduous path of being a passionate student as well, which Fred and George found to be a thing worthy of a joke or two.

Although, the most noticeable change was that Harry seemed a lot more annoyed towards Hermione than he was last time, and Ron had to find a way of solving that before leaving.

It had startled Ron when Hermione talked to them after Transfiguration, but even when it was quite a change Ron couldn't stop from hoping she would talk to them again. He didn't like seeing her alone all the time.

On the other hand, Ron got used to the ghosts again. Both, the pearly-white ones and the ones who were going to die at some point in the following years. It still took him aback to find Roger Malone or Stephen Cornfoot behind the corner of one corridor, but at least it didn't scare the crap of him anymore. At least not as much.

Halfway through the week, Ron saw Adrian Pucey for the first time as well, and an instinctive frown appeared on his face. The Slytherin was a few feet away and he didn't even turn to look at them. Ron had been right about Pucey betraying them and, even when the boy hadn't done anything yet, he couldn't stop feeling the need of to hex his stupid arse all the way to the floor.

It would serve him well, but unfortunately, Ron wasn't trying to change the future so he decided to let it go.

Eventually, Friday came and Ron knew perfectly well what that meant. More Slytherins he couldn't hex.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked at breakfast.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron seriously.

"That's Professor Snape's class, isn't it?"

Ron nodded not looking particularly enthusiastic, "Yeah, he's Head of Slytherin House and he always favours them, that's what Fred and George say anyways."

"I wish McGonagall favoured us," said Harry

It was weird how different their thoughts surely were at the moment. They both appeared to be focused on the Transfiguration homework but deep down Ron's worries were not about that. As unbelievable as it sounded, he was counting the days until he could start paying visits to the library. Ron needed to start looking for time travel books and, if he was lucky enough, he would be able to see Hermione there. He needed his older wife, but he also wanted to make sure her younger self was doing alright.

At that moment a hundred owls streamed around the Great Hall delivering all kinds of packages and letters, and for the first time that week, Hedwig landed next to Harry. It was Hagrid's note asking to meet him at his hut. Ron was at least happy that it was not a note about a certain dragon egg. He wondered how that would turn out now.

Ron tried to push that away, he wanted to think nothing would change since his actions so far couldn't possibly have that much of an impact on the timeline. At least not yet. He had to move fast.

Soon they were off to the dungeons. Ron walked as slowly as he could all the way there. A few yards from the entrance his eyes popped open, he had an idea but he didn't know if he should dare.

"Er, do you know anything about Potions?" he asked, making up his mind. A little change won't hurt anyone. And he just needed something to make him feel as if he wasn't turning a blind eye to all the bad things in the world. "Have you gone through the book already?"

Harry looked terrified at Ron's question. The boy had been comfortable with the classes so far, he had seen that even kids from wizarding families weren't that much ahead. Ron had accomplished the needle thing of course, but almost everybody else had seemed to be struggling as much as Harry with their needles. The possibility of not being prepared for Potions still took Harry off guard though.

"Were we supposed to?"

"No, of course not, but, I wondered."

"I don't know a thing about Potions," admitted Harry.

"The same with me. I mean, I only know a few things. Like this bezoar... it's a stone that comes from a goat's stomach, I believe," Ron said trying to sound casual as he looked at his friend from the corner of his eye, "Percy talks about school rubbish all the time, so there's that. It's supposed to cure most poisons."

Ron thought that was enough. It would be suspicious if Harry suddenly knew all the answers to Snape's questions, and to be honest that was the only one Ron could remember. He couldn't forget about that stone, after all, it had saved his life once. It would be much better if Harry kept that one in mind.

The dungeon was exactly the same, it still had its dozens of jars against the walls with dead animals inside. A charming decoration, he reckoned. To his surprise, Ron soon found himself missing Slughorn.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began in his usual drawling whisper, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Ron could almost count the seconds, he knew what was coming.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Ron thought he knew the answer but he couldn't give Harry anything. Hermione did too since she was now raising her hand vigorously in the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer, "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry's eyes opened wide as he turned to his side. Ron tried to show his best look of surprise.

"A goat's stomach?" Harry asked doubtfully.

Ron had to try awfully hard not to laugh at Snape's face at that moment.

"What did you just say?" the professor asked, looking very displeased at Harry's words. From his reaction, one might think that he had given him the wrong answer.

Ron nodded at Harry. "A goat's stomach, sir," Harry said a bit louder this time.

"And what is it used for?" the greasy git demanded.

"It—It cures a lot of poisons."

Snape seemed to be considering his answer for a bit, "Seems like you do know how to read a book after all. I'm afraid that it'll take more than that to get a good grade in my subject."

For a brief instant, Ron thought the Potions' teacher was going to leave it there, but apparently that was too good to be true, "Can you name two poisons that cannot be cured by the use of a bezoar, Potter?"

Harry looked as if all of his good luck had just left. Snape asked two more questions that Harry got wrong of course. Harry's good answer made things worse since the man was now determined to make Harry look bad. Malfoy was sniggering in the back but Ron didn't even mind the ferret since during the next question he lost it.

"That's a second year question!" he shouted and his eyes popped open when he realized that he had said it out loud. The whole class went silent and Snape's dreadful eyes moved to Ron. Hermione was now still and she lowered her hand, her eyes were set on Ron.

"Excuse me, Mr…?"

"Weasley," he said, then added begrudgingly, "sir."

"So, Mr. Weasley, do you have something to say? I must have forgotten the moment when I asked for your opinion."

Ron was tense, he had surely made a mess of it again but he wasn't willing to back out now. He frowned. "That's a second year potion, I think, professor," he said in a low voice. He couldn't recall the last time he got similar attention in a Potions class.

Snape's look was ice cold, "Is it now? So should I believe you know what I would get if I mix bat spleens, dried nettles, and puffer-fish eyes?"

"A swelling solution," Ron answered. Harry was confused, moving his eyes between Snape and Ron.

Snape didn't make a gesture of having heard Ron. The class was still silent, even Malfoy was waiting for Snape to say that Ron was wrong to start laughing. But Ron wasn't wrong.

Ron wondered if he was going to get points from the professor for the first time in his life, but when the man spoke he knew the hope had been nothing more than a folly.

"Enough with the simple questions, we have to move forward with this class," Snape then moved his eyes full of hate to Ron. "A point will be taken from Gryffindor House for talking out of turn, Weasley," he continued and turned to Harry. "I would keep studying if I were you, Potter."

Malfoy's mocking laugh came of course.

Harry was fuming, but fortunately, he didn't say a thing. Deep down, Ron knew Snape was on their side, but the git kept making it incredibly hard not to hate him.

Ron didn't raise his voice during the rest of the class but that didn't mean he didn't have the opportunity. After Ron's moment with the questions, Hermione seemed to feel the need to be noticed too. She tried to raise her hand through the class with more insistence than before. When Snape told her to sit down with a few rude comments, Ron almost shouted again.

The class continued as Ron expected. As an old scene lost in memory. It was surreal, seeing Seamus cauldron throw weird fumes as Malfoy lashed silently at Goyle in the back. The girl Ron thought was Tracy Davies was entirely focused on her potion nearby, just in front of Neville's table. As expected, Neville was having a hard time with his potion and Ron knew that whether they helped him or not they would be scolded, so he helped him either way once he was finished. Unusually, all Ron got from Snape was a nasty glare which meant that Ron's potion was acceptable.

_Now that was a first._

Ron was amazed at himself, he couldn't remember a single time when he had finished so quickly with his potion and got Snape's approval. On the other hand, he couldn't forget he was an auror in a first year class either.

Snape continued being a git towards Harry, but this time he kept an eye on Ron too. Even so, the second half of the class went better than expected. A couple of times Harry tried to answer back but Ron kicked him under the table and stopped him.

"Don't push it," Ron muttered to him.

Neville still messed up his potion, but not as bad as last time. At least he didn't need to go to the infirmary. Ron knew Neville was actually pretty good at Potions, he only needed a little help. After all, an expert herbologist was ought to be good at potions. And, in Ron's time, Professor Sprout had already taken Neville as an assistant.

All in all, the class turned from dreadful to boring, and soon enough they were dismissed.

"Oh forget about the ugly bat already," Ron told Harry once they made their way out of Potions.

Harry was frowning. "I just don't get it! You had the right answer, and I didn't do anything before but he was still out to get me."

Ron gave his friend a half-smile. It was a shame that he couldn't talk to him about his father's and Snape's problems. "Er, mind if I join you at Hagrid's?"

Hagrid's Hut was a nice change from the dungeons and Ron was even glad to see Fang again, the old coward.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears.

"Ehm, This is Ron," said Harry as the half-giant prepared his infamous rock cakes. Ron paled, he had almost forgotten about the bloody rock cakes.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Ron smiled, if there was something good about this whole thing, it was seeing the twins together again. He imagined that if he stayed long enough he would eventually start getting annoyed by them taking the mickey on him, but that time wasn't close yet. Besides, Ron couldn't stay long enough to find out.

Harry told Hagrid about their lessons while the huge man put some rock cakes in front of them. Ron showed a twisted smile even before his first bite.

They mentioned Snape of course and Hagrid was impressed when Harry told him that Ron answered a second year question. Ron blushed and gave him a nervous smile. He didn't know for how much longer the ' _heard it from my brothers_ ' excuse was going to be credible.

The conversation moved to Charlie and then Ron told Hagrid that he was convinced his brother would marry a dragon if he could. The half-giant burst into laughter.

"Hagrid!" Harry's voice got Ron's and Hagrid's attention, "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Ron made a weird gesture, he knew what was going on in his friend's mind at the moment. At least he hadn't messed with that part, the whole Philosopher's Stone events started just like last time.

As they headed back to the castle with their pockets filled with rock cakes, Ron threw a few glimpses at his young friend. Many things were awaiting him and a minor change could cause a lot of damage, at least that was what Hermione would say.

Ron felt heavier. He had been carrying a big burden ever since he left his house the night of the attack. He never had such a big responsibility lying solely only on his shoulders before. He was afraid of not being up for the task.

It was still uncertain if the events of Transfiguration and Potions were just little forgettable moments or if those would affect something bigger.

One mistake, that was all it would take. One mistake and everything could be lost.


	9. The Mid-Afternoon Reprisal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron does a good job then faces changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to ORCA47(ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades(ffnet) who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. It seems like we just arrived at Hogwarts, but with this chap we already crossed the halfway mark. That's what happens when you follow the original Philosopher's Stone structure.
> 
> 4\. I have a twitter account that I'm going to use for updates and general purposes related to my stories. Account is @TimeTravelFFics
> 
> 5\. Enjoy

The next day George caught up with Ron and Harry down on one of the corridors of the second floor.

"Well, well, is it true? Rumour has it you're quite a know-it-all these days," he next, putting an arm over his brother's shoulders.

Fred popped out right next to Ron, startling him, "We didn't know you had it in you, honestly. I must say we're quite disappointed," added the twin closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly.

Ron didn't know how to answer. As far as he knew they could be referring to either his feat with the needle at Transfiguration or to the events in Snape's class. Either way, it wasn't good. Ron needed to treat those events as if they never happened, maybe if he did so and started acting more like his eleven-year-old self nobody would suspect a thing.

He should've expected this. He was very prone to mistakes, and the little one he already did was starting to get attention.

"I got lucky, that's all. It was just a ruddy needle," Ron mumbled to his brothers.

"Rubbish, what about what happened at Snape's class? Have you been picking books before classes?" asked Fred.

George looked scandalized, "You got to be careful there, Ronnie. I don't know what we're gonna do with you if you start acting like Percy."

"...or if you suddenly turn into Snape's pet."

Ron was flabbergasted. He imagined Snape smiling and celebrating all of his answers in class. It was a disturbing image. "What?! NO! of course not! You're mental if you think that I would—" He turned to Harry looking for help, but his friend was trying to contain a chuckle. "Oi!"

The twins left shortly, but they kept bugging him for the rest of the weekend. Percy talked to him as well, he even told Ron that he started out great but that he needed to keep up the hard work if he wanted to make it to prefect. Ron didn't listen to him, the last thing he needed was to follow his advice. Although, he wished he could tell Percy that the badge could be his even without doing all of those things. He would have loved to see his brother's face at that.

He needed to be a bit more like that old Ron.

As the new week started, he walked into each classroom with a clear idea in his head. He sat normally next to Harry and tried to do as worse as he could in every single class, almost as bad as Neville. Ron messed up spells, failed to turn in homework, and, the few times teachers had asked him questions, he answered wrong. Ron hoped that soon everyone else would think that his first week had only been a lucky hit.

Harry was confused and he even asked if everything was alright. Ron tried his best to convince him that things were normal the way they were, but his friend didn't look entirely sure. Hermione had noticed the change too since he caught her raising an eyebrow at each wrong answer he gave. The only weird thing was that the teachers seemed to be paying more attention to him, surely they were aware of what had happened in McGonagall's and Snape's classes. Professor Flitwick even appeared to be a little disappointed when he failed on a pretty basic quiz.

"I repeat, ' _Impact of body weight on a Transfiguration'_. I want the parchment on my desk first thing next week. Ten inches," said Professor McGonagall at the end of her class on Thursday. Everyone was already packing up their stuff, chatting lively about the first flying lesson they were going to have that day.

Ron made an effort and he managed to go through the entire class without changing his match one bit. He felt like he was doing quite fine with that, at least until McGonagall spoke again.

"Weasley, a moment with you, please."

Puzzled looks turned to Ron, Seamus even whispered something into Dean's ear a few seats away. All of Ron's confidence in his new plan vanished. McGonagall had noticed something for sure.

"Yes, professor," Ron answered, looking peakish.

Harry threw Ron one last worried glance and promised to wait outside. And, eventually, Ron was left alone with the professor. For a while, it was so quiet that only McGonagall's quill was heard. Ron was starting to wonder if she was going to say anything at all when she broke the silence.

"Sit," she pointed at a chair in the front row without raising her eyes from her work.

As he made his way there, his steps echoed throughout the now empty classroom. The room felt longer than ever. When he finally arrived at the designated chair, the old witch left her quill and turned to look at him sternly. "Mind to tell me what's happening?"

Ron froze. For a moment the crazy idea that the teacher might know who he really was startled him. "Err, I don't know what you mean professor."

"Don't even try playing this folly with me, Mr Weasley. One day you impress me by turning a match into a perfect needle on your first class, something I haven't seen in any other student before, then the next week you try to make me believe you're quite behind. Which one is it?"

"I'm having a hard time with it. Sorry professor, I—"

Professor McGonagall stopped him with a hand gesture. "Don't even bother. I can see your wand movements are clearly trying to get the spell wrong. I have enough experience to notice such things. The question here is _why_?"

Ron gulped, "Why?"

He even turned to his side, as if nervously looking for an answer. Then he remembered he was the only student left.

"Yes, Mr Weasley. _Why_. Why are you trying to fail in my class on purpose?" she asked adjusting her square glasses, not looking happy at all.

"I'm not! Really! I'm only—"

"You are. I even talked to Filius and the rest of the staff. I told them to keep an eye on you because you had potential. Imagine my surprise when they said I had it wrong."

Ron was trapped, he knew it. He had made a very drastic change and no-one bought it. If he had only failed just a little bit at a time maybe they wouldn't have noticed. He was awful at making decisions. If it had only been Hermione who was sent to the past, none of this would have happened. If it had been Harry, he would've gotten away with it.

_Bloody brilliant, Weasley._

"So? I'm waiting."

He took a deep breath and decided to let it go, "Yes, professor. I've been trying to fail on purpose," he said. It was hard not to look away.

"I imagine there must be a strong reason for this kind of behaviour."

A dozen ideas raced through Ron's head at the moment, each one more pathetic than the one before. He had to find a good excuse, one good enough to convince McGonagall, which was a tough sell. Ron was surprised by finding the right answer just on the nick of time.

"Some students have been taking the mickey on me, you know for doing good in classes," he said, "But Hermione is way better, she always has the right answer and I don't think that I need to—"

"Miss Granger is indeed a very good student, but what she knows or knows not has nothing to do with this," the professor cut him off, frowning. She stared at Ron attentively for a while, barely moving a muscle from her face, which made Ron uneasy. Funny how Ron kept feeling out of place for a whole week, but then McGonagall throws him that look and he suddenly feels like a kid again. It took a few more seconds before the professor sighed in defeat. "Very well, then. If you give me the names of these students I would see that things are solved."

_Fantastic. Now what? He should've seen this coming._

"No," Ron answered, his tone a bit desperate. "They didn't actually say anything, they only whispered. I mean, I think they were talking about me and—"

Professor McGonagall was looking at him as he moved about nervously. "This is a sensitive matter and it must be checked. Especially if this behaviour is so unjustified."

Ron spent the next few minutes arguing that he couldn't give any names to her. It took a lot to convince McGonagall. He insisted on not hearing anything more than mumbles, and the professor couldn't reprimand anyone for something Ron thought he heard. Still, she was looking at Ron suspiciously which he didn't need at all.

"I promise. I'll stop failing."

The professor thought about those words, surely wondering if he was being truthful or if she should let the students mocking him go. In the end, she nodded reluctantly.

"It's not wise to let someone else's opinion affect you and your future like that. I thought you were smarter than this, Mr Weasley."

Ron nodded.

"So be it, I'll let you go for now but I'll keep an eye open. You have as much potential as Miss Granger. If you could just learn a habit or two from her you could give a lot to your house."

Ron hurried to thank her and rushed out of the classroom before McGonagall could change her mind. Once outside, he sighed heavily.

Everything was messy again. He couldn't be that bright and surprise everybody as the smartest first year ever, that would surely get him caught not only by Dumbledore but by the Ministry too. Not to mention the lifetime of teasing from the twins that would imply. On the other hand, Ron couldn't be his regular self either because of his mistakes during the first week. He was sure McGonagall would be watching him not only in her class but in the others too. What was the answer? Being moderately smart? Wouldn't that affect the timeline as well?

"What did she say?" Harry asked, appearing in front of him.

Ron jumped on his place. Once he noticed it was Harry, he relaxed. "Blimey! Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry... What happened then?"

"She just wanted to know why I did so good last class and so lousy this time."

"Oh, and why is that?"

He looked carefully at his best friend, knowing fully-well he hadn't fooled him either. It turned out Ron couldn't even trick a boy, that spoke so highly of his pretending skills. "Er, nothing. I was feeling a bit off, but I'm better now. Let's get a nosh before the flying lessons."

Harry's eyes opened wide, "Flying! Hope I'm not the only one falling to the floor."

Ron smiled.

As soon as they were on the grounds, Ron became more anxious. Harry wouldn't have a problem flying, that much was true. However, too much was riding on Harry getting that Seeker position. It had to happen.

If Malfoy didn't cause Harry to follow him in the air or if McGonagall didn't see Harry catching Neville's Remembrall, then the future would be affected big time and Ron wouldn't get the time he needed to go to the library.

_It was always a blast to work under pressure._

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

They did as asked.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, come on. Now say ' _Up!'_ "

Ron knew that as soon as he shouted the broom would fly into his hand, so he moved his mouth without saying anything. As expected Harry was the only one with a broom when they followed the instructor's command. Ron grinned, this was his friend's moment.

The next thing Ron knew was that Madam Hooch was walking Neville to the infirmary. He would have liked to help the round-faced boy this time but there was too much at stake. Neville had to take that for the team.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say _Quidditch_. Come on, dear."

Then Madam Hooch and Neville were gone.

Ron was hoping Malfoy would still try to make fun of Neville and he wasn't disappointed.

"Ha! that great lump!" the Slytherin said as many house partners joined him.

"Shut up, Malfoy." snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Ron wasn't going to take the chance that Malfoy didn't see the Remembrall this time. He had followed the little ball with the look since Neville dropped it and saw where it fell. So, he stood a bit on the back of the group and took advantage of the arguing to non-verbally push the ball in Malfoy's direction.

"Look!" said Malfoy as the Remembrall hit lightly against his foot. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. So far so good.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. Ron tried to stay in the back, unnoticed.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I'll leave it somewhere else for Longbottom to find, how about, up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled and soon he was following Malfoy into the air. The girls on the ground gasped.

"No! Madam Hooch told us not to move, you'll get us all in trouble," shouted Hermione.

The most difficult part was coming because Harry needed to fly in front of the right window and at the right time. Ron had identified McGonagall's office and was keeping a close look at both boys in the air. The ginger was hoping he didn't need to interfere when Hermione snorted and turned to him, "Aren't you going to say anything to him?" she demanded.

For a moment Ron was taken aback. "Who? Me?"

"Yes, you, we were told to stay here," she insisted.

He didn't have time for this. If he needed to do something and Hermione was looking at him, everything would be for nothing. The Gryffindor students had their eyes set in the air, but some of the Slytherins noticed the exchange. Gina Runcorn and Daphne Greengrass turned in their direction, but to Ron's fortunes, they rolled their eyes and turned back to the air.

"Didn't you see? Malfoy was being a prat. I'm with Harry on this one."

Then the students shouted as Harry bolted on his broom towards the shiny ball. Ron saw the ball heading in the right direction, but at least three windows to the right.

_Blimey._

"Look!" Ron told Hermione as he pointed up with his left hand.

The moment the girl turned Ron gave a step back and moved his wand. A gust of wind pushed the ball in the right direction, which thankfully no one associated with Ron.

 _Thank Merlin for Harry's seeker reflexes_ , Ron told himself.

The boy turned at the right time, grabbing the ball and avoiding hitting headfirst against the wall. It was hard to know for sure from the ground, still, it looked like Harry didn't land in McGonagall's window this time. However, he must have passed in front of it, maybe the witch saw him. That was unless she wasn't looking out at that moment. Or maybe she wasn't at her office, maybe she went to the loo at the wrong time.

Ron crossed his fingers as the Gryffindors cheered. He was tense, but there was no way he could have done something more than he did. Actually, he thought he had been quite lucky in pulling that wind without being noticed. Ron's heart was beating wildly like a hippogriff against his chest, and it didn't stop until he saw a familiar figure in the distance.

"HARRY POTTER!" the unmistakable voice of Professor McGonagall came.

Ron released the biggest sigh ever. This was way more difficult than he thought.

As they all picked up their stuff, the whispers about what was going to happen to Harry spread around. Ron couldn't care less about those mutterings, he knew what McGonagall had in mind.

He felt euphoric about that small win though. Maybe he was good at this after all. It was no small feat what he did with the ball, many things could have gone wrong. But they didn't. Ron had done well. He knew.

For the first time since he arrived in the past, Ron felt hopeful that he might be able to do what was needed of him after all.

On his way back to the castle, Hermione passed next to Ron and he didn't give it a second thought when he followed her. He wasn't really supposed to, but Harry wasn't around and Ron was still running high after his feat with the Remembrall that he just couldn't stop himself.

The girl was quick to notice Ron's presence and turned to him. She was frowning, she didn't look happy. "Are you following me?"

"Er, no, I'm going to the castle. I take dinner there too, you know," Ron said and walked by her side, glancing occasionally at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You shouldn't be mad at me. I didn't do anything," he dared to say after a while.

"Of course you didn't! She told us to stay there. You should've stopped him."

"Ha! As if stopping Harry from doing anything was a stroll in the park," he said with a mocking smile. He knew the older Hermione would understand him, maybe even reward him for his cheek with a smile. However, as he forgot at the moment, this girl was not his wife yet.

Hermione huffed and hurried her pace.

"Hey! Don't leave me here," Ron said as he tried to catch up.

"I thought we weren't walking together. We just happened to go in the same direction, you said it yourself,"

"But, we were talking, and you got mad, and… Well, it wasn't my fault!"

Hermione frowned without turning to Ron.

"Don't you think this is a bit unfair? I couldn't do much, Harry was already in the air. Besides I'm sure he'll be fine, _my heart told me it was the right thing to do_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, it wasn't. You should've listened to me. If you don't think these things through you'll end up hurting all of us. And it will be your fault."

It was a given that she was talking about house points, still, Ron couldn't help feeling struck by those words. Hermione didn't notice his reaction and, as soon as they entered through the main doors, she walked hastily away from him.

Ron was left stunned at the entrance to the castle as a sea of students passed at his sides. Too many emotions came to him then. He felt gutted by Hermione's words for sure but he also felt angry. Angry at himself for thinking everything would be okay now that he managed to not fuck up one thing. Apparently doing his best wasn't enough yet.

" _...you'll end up hurting all of us. And it will be your fault._ "

He hurried inside, and a moment later he noticed Adrian Pucey. The prick was talking to a Hufflepuff girl as they both made their way to the basement stairs. He was smiling as if none of this had been his fault. He was the real culprit. It was because of Pucey that Ron couldn't be with his wife right now. It was because of him that Ron was at risk of messing everything up.

In a beat, Ron made up his mind. Without Pucey or his companion noticing, Ron barely raised his wand in their direction, " _Furnunculus_ " he muttered under his breath.

Adrian Pucey's square face filled with boils the next moment. It was so sudden, that the girl by his side gasped audibly and a few laughs in the hall echoed from the nearby students who noticed. The boy covered his face and, after giving what appeared to be a lazy excuse, he turned about and started heading down the first landing of the stairs. His head was still visible when Ron raised his wand again.

" _Glisseo_ ," Ron muttered. And he heard Pucey yelp as the staircase turned into a slide.

More laughs echoed as Ron stormed out of there, hoping the prick had hit his arse on the basement floor.

Rage filled Ron as he made his way. Laughs and conversations around him feeling blurry and distant. He wanted all of this over. He hadn't asked for this.

 _In a way I did,_ he thought.

Yes. More than once Ron had wished to see his brother again, and he was very happy of having spent this week next to Fred. However, he felt as if he was losing Hermione. And he had no idea how to recover his old life.

He went into the first loo he found. Then, he washed his face, repeatedly. The images of the unsuspecting Pucey getting hexed still running wild in his mind.

 _It serves him right, for everything he did,_ he told himself.

Still, he washed his face again, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't the Mirror of Erised or that dodgy time-travelling mirror that sent him here. Just plain Ronald Weasley staring back at him.

He had done well at the flying lesson, and yet here he was. He knew it was unfair to ask for some sort of praise for what he did, but still, he couldn't stop feeling like crap. Hermione's words had hurt, even when the girl didn't know what Ron was going through. Maybe deep down the doubt lingered in Ron. The uncertainty of not knowing what Hermione would think of his actions. The older one. Maybe his wife would've gone with Dumbledore at once, getting his memories erased would save a lot of hustle for sure.

Would she say that what his heart and his gut told him didn't matter? Would she say that getting his memories erased was the smart thing to do?

As if fighting the idea of being forgotten, a memory popped into his thoughts.

 _"You can do this Ron. I know you can,"_ the voice of Hermione had said, and it echoed in Ron's head as if the older Hermione was in the bathroom next to him too.

Her voice came from the early days of his auror career. Ron remembered all of his doubts.

 _"I hope so or I'll get myself killed"_ he had said then, only half-joking. _"I don't know as many spells as you do and, by Merlin, I'm not as quick as Harry. Honestly, they just overlooked the rubbish of my Potions' work because it's me."_

_"Oh, nonsense! You should stop that right now, or not do this at all. There's a lot to you Ronald Weasley. You have your heart."_

Ron remembered he had rolled his eyes then, not unlike the young Hermione had done moments ago. _"I reckon my heart will scare the hell out of those rogue Death Eaters."_

_"Listen to me, and listen to me carefully. I trust your heart more than anything Ron, and you should too. There might be others with more knowledge but they lose sight of what's important. Not you. Not when you listen to your heart."_

In some way, Ron had always wanted to believe those words. After all, it had been his mind and the tricks Voldemort played with it what had made Ron leave the Horcrux hunt. It was his heart what made him return.

The memory of Hermione embracing him and the following kiss faded then, slowly. Ron was suddenly aware of the bathroom around him. Aside from the distant sound of water leaking drop by drop, the place felt silent and lonely.

"I miss you, Hermione. So bloody much," he said out loud, yet there was no one there to hear him.

In more than one way, he was more alone than ever. Not even the pale-eyed man had followed him into the mirror, and even if he had, he surely wouldn't have landed in the exact time period... or timeline... or whatever. Ron had to be cautious either way, but he thought he was definitely alone.

Ron washed his freckled face and stared at the mirror once more. He remembered the other one, the one that had led him to the past. Maybe it already existed, maybe it was missing whatever Hermione helped the Unspeakables with but some part of it could be out there already. Maybe some notes or the idea for it.

That mirror was the answer, Ron realized with a jolt of hope. If it had sent him back in time maybe it could return him as well.

There was something Ron was missing though, something important. He got that feeling, as if he had forgotten it. His heart was telling him that too. His gut. It was very annoying to be so close and still feel like a piece is missing. Surely, if Ron grabbed Neville's Remembrall now it would go all red. Mocking him.

The good part was Harry was going to be in the team, which meant Ron would be able to go to the library now. Maybe there his memory will be refreshed or he will find something else to help him.

Trying to give himself more hopes, Ron left the bathroom.

By the time dinner came around, Ron's mood was starting to lighten up, everything related to Harry had gone according to plan and now he had a goal.

Same as last time, Fred and George came by to congratulate Harry for his spot on the Quidditch team and, as soon as they left, Malfoy appeared.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly while Crabbe and Goyle scowled at each side of Malfoy.

Ron thought he looked braver as well. After the war, Malfoy tried to stay away from the spotlight as much as possible, and for a good reason. Even if Harry helped him avoid prison, his older self was still subject to mandatory inspections once in a while. The git had brought that on himself.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own. Here or in the air," said Malfoy and Ron interrupted him with a laugh.

Malfoy gritted his teeth and moved his eyes to Ron, looking red. "Shut up, Weasel."

"From where I was it looked like you couldn't hold a candle to Harry's flying," said Ron.

The pale tone of Malfoy's skin went a dark shade of red. "What do you know about flying? You can't even afford a twig to ride."

"He knows more than you. Now go back to your place and leave us alone," complained Harry, in the brisk of standing up.

As Malfoy and his bodyguards laughed, Ron remembered something. He couldn't allow Malfoy to leave. He needed something from that git, a duel. Fluffy had been immediately after the flying lessons and Malfoy's fake duel was the excuse for getting out of bed. Ron had almost forgotten.

It was a ruddy pain to remember all of these details.

"Harry can beat you, in a Wizard's duel," Ron hurried before Malfoy listened to Harry's words.

His friend looked confused, but Ron could explain things later. Even so, Malfoy and his buddies seemed amused.

"He doesn't know what a duel is. He doesn't even know how to use a wand."

He had no idea what he was talking about.

"Harry can duel miles around you. I've been teaching him. Remember the train? How was the floor, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's brow showed anger on the boy at once. "Midnight. We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked. Crabbe's my second."

"I'm Harry's of course."

Malfoy left, leaving Ron with a pesky thought he couldn't shake away. He had mentioned the trophy room again, was that a coincidence? Maybe the git had that planned before arriving at the table instead of coming up with it in the spot. However, the really troubling thing was how easy it would have been for Malfoy to suggest a different place. Ron had no power to control small changes like those. Would those start happening soon? What could he do about them? Could a small change affect the future that much.

 _Blimey, it could've happened already,_ Ron realized. _I don't remember if Crabbe or Goyle was Malfoy's second last time. This is a ruddy headache!_

"What is a wizard's duel?" asked Harry then. "And you are my second? What does that mean?"

"A second's there to take over if you die," said Ron trying to not give it too much attention, "Don't worry people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. Malfoy doesn't know any dangerous spell, I bet."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Rubbish! You know that Leg-Locker curse I showed you. 'Sides if it comes to it you can always throw your wand away and punch him on that smuggish face of his," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me," came Hermione's voice from across the table, "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying. You mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's very selfish of you."

"Well it's really none of your business," said Harry.

Hermione didn't look pleased. Ron moved his eyes between them, he didn't know what else to do. Well, he did, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to be rude to Hermione, especially after their earlier encounter had been sour.

"I did win a few points. It wouldn't be considerate if—"

"So what? Ron won points too," insisted Harry.

Hermione frowned but before she could answer Harry stood up. "Should we go?" he asked Ron.

Ron was conflicted but he ended up nodding and following his friend out of the room. As they moved away, his blue eyes glimpsed at the bushy haired girl they left behind.

Harry and Hermione weren't getting along. They didn't the previous time at this point either but Ron wasn't sure if things were more complicated now. He had to start acting as if Hermione annoyed him, if he left all of that to Harry then maybe it would get to a point where both of them couldn't make peace. That would be disastrous.

He decided to think about what problems that could cause later. Instead, he spent the rest of the day trying to make Harry master the Leg-Locker curse. Harry wasn't going to need it that night since Malfoy wasn't going to show up, but Ron couldn't say that to him.

When the time was right they walked down the staircase of the dormitories. Harry must've thought everyone would be asleep by that time but Ron knew better.

"I can't believe you're really going to do this," Hermione sprung up from a near chair in the common room wearing a pink bathrobe.

"Hermione?!" Ron said faking surprise but it was clear that his voice didn't show anger. In fact, he was trying to contain a smile at the sight of his eleven-year-old wife scolding them. His mood was way better now.

"You?! What are you doing here?" Harry added.

"Stopping you from making a mistake of course."

Harry was frowning. "Couldn't you just leave us alone? We're not getting you into trouble!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped to Ron, "Percy, he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

That would have been a crushing blow. Ron hadn't thought of that. Everything seemed to be back on track now with Harry on the team, but if Percy had appeared things would have run out of control. Especially since they didn't have Harry's cloak yet. Ron needed them to see Fluffy.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron. The boy pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione of course followed them out of the portrait hole. "You two don't care about Gryffindor, only about yourselves. I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"We'll be alright. We won't lose any points because no one will see us," Ron said.

"Just go away," added Harry.

"As you wish, but don't say I didn't warn you. You'll remember it when you're on the train home tomorrow. You're so going to get yourselves expelled."

Then the most unexpected thing happened. Hermione said the password and went inside the common room. Ron was baffled briefly, but then he realized what had changed. The Fat Lady was in her portrait when last time she hadn't been, apparently they had come out yelling so much at each other that she didn't get a chance to be surprised. Ron hadn't noticed her there.

He was stunned looking at the now-closed portrait. It was very wrong, how could he have not foreseen that? Last time they had come out at a moment when the Fat Lady was visiting another portrait and that caused Hermione and Neville to come with them. They probably came out a few minutes later or earlier, it didn't matter, the problem was that Hermione was supposed to see that third-floor corridor. Ron didn't have a clue about how she not being there would affect the future.

"Hermione, wait," he said weakly and tried to go after her but he was held back. Harry was now grabbing his arm looking confused.

Once again he had to decide between doing the things he was supposed to and Hermione. He hated this.

"What are you two doing here at this hour?!" said the Fat Lady now that the surprise had left her.

"Let's go!" said Harry to him.

"But, but..." mumbled a pale Ron moving his eyes between the portrait and Harry.

"We're running out of time!" his friend insisted.

Ron sighed and followed his friend.

They found Neville on the next turn but he didn't follow them. Harry gave him the password and he soon went after Hermione, leaving only Ron and Harry to witness the three-headed dog. Things were becoming way too different and this could probably affect the whole stone searching investigation. What if things didn't go the same as last time because of it? What if Hermione wasn't with them at the trapdoor? Ron paled, they couldn't do it without her.

He was way too lost in his thoughts on the way down, thinking of how he could fix things before returning to his own time. Harry even had to shake him to get his attention on a couple of occasions.

Fortunately, everything else did go as it was supposed to go with the exception that it was now Ron doing the Alohomora on Fluffy's door. That wasn't entirely good though because that was another spell Ron had to explain to Harry. He also pointed out the trap door to Harry once they were back at the common room.

When Ron saw his friend thinking in silence, he knew at least Harry was going in the right direction, figuring out the connections with that Gringotts' vault. However, he had to find a way to let Hermione know about it too. The young girl wouldn't want to know anything about rule-breaking though. The task was going to be as difficult as stopping Quirrell altogether.

Ron had to do it regardless. He had grown too confident after the flying lessons and that caused him to mess things up again. In a much bigger way. There was no way around it, he had to fix this. Ron was an auror after all, he had to know a way to put things back to normal. His knowledge should be useful for more than just first-year spells and answering school questions. If he was ever going to do something right, this was his time. He had to recover his life.


	10. A Hollow Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron plans a trollish encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks a lot to SnowBear17 and ORCA47 (both from ffnet) for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to SilverySparks (ffnet) who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.
> 
> 2\. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.
> 
> 3\. I've been slow these past weeks. I know. But I'm still here.
> 
> 4\. I have a twitter account. Account is TimeTravelFFics
> 
> 5\. Enjoy

In certain ways, the days that followed the meeting with Fluffy were just as Ron remembered them. As expected, Malfoy was outraged that they hadn't been expelled and kept bothering them wherever they went. Harry and Ron tried to ignore the git, but in return, they were being ignored by Hermione, just as last time. Ron could tell the girl was still mad at them, even though she hadn't been dragged into the actual rule-breaking this time around.

The morning after the incident, Ron had been afraid of waking up to a strange world. After all, wasn't a small change supposed to turn the world upside down and all that rubbish? Shouldn't he be waking up to find out that the official school robes were now supposed to be as pink as Dolores Umbridge's favourite colour? Or to the Cannons suddenly ranking first in the Quidditch league?

None of that was even remotely true, however. At least in appearance, everything seemed strangely normal to Ron. Harry wasn't asking him about the _Alohomora_ he had cast, and no one had noticed anything odd during the flying lesson. Actually, aside from his new situation with Professor McGonagall, the only difference Ron could see was that the Slytherin Quidditch team were now blaming Gryffindor for the attack on Adrian Pucey. Considering that Slytherins and Gryffindors were always at each other's throats regardless of Ron's actions, that was hardly going to be a problem.

But appearances and reality were two different things.

"Dragon training accepts no mistakes," his brother Charlie would say. "You can be the most experienced bloke in the reserve. But if you go boasting about it and grow careless, you'll soon find out that veterans and rookies can get their arses burnt all the same."

Wise words, those ones.

Ron had grown careless after his feat with the Remembrall, and he had made a mistake because of it. His biggest yet. Hermione was supposed to have been in the third-floor corridor, and he didn't know how much her absence would affect the future. More than ever, the thought that he had done wrong by not going to Dumbledore haunted him. However, that wasn't a path for Ron anymore. If he let his memories go now without fixing things first, he could pretty much blast his future away. Somehow, he had to let the younger Hermione know about Fluffy; there was just no other way around it. But since Harry was always next to Ron and the girl was ignoring them both, the task wasn't going to be easy to accomplish.

That wasn't the only thing Ron had to worry about, since there was also his promise to McGonagall. He wasn't going to answer all of the questions in class and take the spotlight away from Hermione, but at least he didn't fail whenever he was directly quizzed about something. Most of the time, Ron tried to wait for Hermione to finish assignments before getting them right himself. It was an easy task in boring subjects like History of Magic, but whenever he had Charlie's old wand in his hand, he found it very difficult to make mistakes with simple spells. Transfiguration was a special case, as Professor McGonagall kept a close eye on him, so Ron was considerably ahead there. Hermione didn't appear to be happy in slightest, but Harry appreciated the help with his homework.

Not to mention talking and acting like an eleven-year-old, which turned out to be a challenge in its own right. Even so, Ron had to blend in like any other student if he didn't want people wondering who he really was. Most importantly, he had to fool Harry.

"That package at Gringotts, whatever it is, has to be important. Why else would they keep it in there?" Harry used to say those days.

Ron tried to answer with convincing nods and short responses. He needed to look interested enough to keep Harry's curiosity going, but not too much; the last thing they needed would be for the boy to solve the puzzle earlier than required. It was a bloody hassle, really. Between his older self's worries and this younger version of himself, Ron wasn't sure who he was anymore.

Fortunately, Harry was also very interested in learning about Quidditch. Even more so since he got into the team. Telling his friend all he knew about Quidditch for the second time was one of those weird things Ron could truly enjoy. He could just let those conversations flow, without worrying about pesky attackers at the Ministry or messing the future beyond repair. When he talked with Harry about Quidditch, he could just be himself and act like an eleven-year-old at the same time.

If only everything else could be that easy.

A week after the events on the third floor corridor, Harry received a parcel in the mail. Some sort of anticipation came to Ron. Not because of the package, which he knew was a broom courtesy of Professor McGonagall, but because of what it meant for Ron.

Harry's Quidditch practices were what Ron had been waiting for. He would finally be able to get some time at the library, and that would let him move forward with his plans of returning to his own time. He could find more about that ruddy mirror, if it even existed.

As they left the Great Hall, Ron spared another glance at Harry's parcel. He had been afraid of that little detail changing, but how could it? McGonagall knew Harry didn't have a broom, and he ought to have one if he was to play as a Seeker.

 _A Nimbus 2000, though? At least McGonagall didn't seem to be as unyielding with her galleons as she was with her students_ , Ron thought.

Malfoy soon appeared before them and snatched the parcel away from Harry. His two bodyguards were next to him as usual.

"It's a broomstick," he announced, throwing it back to Harry, dead jealous. "You really did it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed to have them."

Ron smirked.

"It's not any old broomstick Malfoy, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand." Ron grinned at Harry triumphantly. "What's yours? A comet? They look flashy, I'll give you that, but they're not in the same league as a nimbus."

"What would you know, Weasley, you can't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back, sneering. "You and your brothers have to save up twig by twig, I suppose."

Ron tried to look as if the comment hadn't affected him this time around. "Keep your filthy money Malfoy, maybe you'll need it to get onto the team next year."

Malfoy was fuming, and even spat a few more nasty remarks at Ron before Professor Flitwick appeared. Ron got the impression that the same professor had appeared here last time, but he couldn't quite remember it clearly. It was odd how some things that Ron took for granted could change unexpectedly, yet more uncertain details stayed the same. But maybe this was just Flitwick's usual path to his classroom.

"Now go on, and don't go about arguing in the corridors," Professor Flitwick said before turning to Harry and Ron. "I'm afraid we'll have to miss our next lesson. I need to borrow the time for the fifth years; they have O.W.L.s coming up. Can I trust you to carry the message on to your classmates?"

"Sure, professor," Harry said, Ron nodding in agreement.

Then they bolted back to the common room, smirking at the look on Malfoy's face when Professor Flitwick said that Harry was allowed the broom. They also knew the reason as to why the fifth years had missed a Charms class so early in the year. The twins had told them about how the Slytherins had tried to get back at Gryffindor for the attack on Pucey, only for it to backfire. Professor Flitwick had been called out of class to help control the affair and to put a pair of dancing benches on the pitch back to normal.

Harry was laughing loudly when they recalled Fred's tale, but it was cut short when they found Hermione in the common room. The girl was quick to make disapproving comments about Harry's broom.

"Can you leave us alone? I thought you weren't even talking to us," said Harry, frowning.

Ron's gaze followed Hermione as she hurried away. "Err, Harry?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think that, well, maybe... she's not that bad?"

Harry stared at him as if Ron had just told him he was Malfoy's long lost brother, or something along those lines. "Are you serious? She's all bossy, and she can't seem to keep herself out of other people's business."

"Yeah, I know. We don't really know her though, maybe if we—"

Their conversation was interrupted by Seamus and Dean coming to pick up their things for their next class, and Harry and Ron had to follow them. By the time the day's lessons were over and they returned to unwrap the parcel, Harry seemed to have forgotten all about Ron ever mentioning Hermione.

It was very upsetting for Ron to look at her being so alone. He even considered sending her an anonymous sweet for her birthday, but he decided against it at the last moment. He still needed to fix his last mistake, he couldn't afford any more changes at the moment.

As much as it pained him, Ron knew the younger Hermione would have to wait a few more weeks.

Harry's first practice only gave Ron an hour or so, but it was enough for a trip to the library. Hopefully, there would be longer Quidditch practices later on.

All the way to the library, he kept wondering if Hermione would be there. He couldn't see her at first, so he decided to focus on his task. The ginger had little time and Hermione was surely still mad at him.

Soon enough, Ron stood in front of the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves and felt as if he was faced with an impossible task.

_Now what?_

In all of those times they had snuck to the library to look for some obscure secret, Ron never had to guide the search. It was always Hermione choosing what books might be useful. And besides, Ron barely knew anything about that mirror aside from what he had seen firsthand. Where was he supposed to start looking for clues? It wasn't like he could just go to Madam Pince and ask her where she kept books on time travelling.

Ron let out a heavy sigh and walked towards the first shelf; he had to start somewhere. At some point, he noticed the familiar bushy brown hair at one of the tables in the back, but he forced his eyes back to the books, trying to pretend that he hadn't seen her.

As he soon found out, time travel books were pretty hard to find, if there were even any at all. He ended up picking one with the word 'Time' in its title, only to end up with a book that talked about speeding up potions. Ron felt lost and frustrated, as if he was trying to look for a needle in a haystack. Eventually, he found a book on the most mysterious sides of magic and unexplored branches of it, and he almost jumped in joy when he noticed it had a section on 'Time Travel'. However, the book only mentioned that while time travel was possible it was tightly controlled by the Ministry. And Ron already knew that.

"Bugger! This will take forever," he muttered in a low voice.

Days passed, and Ron grew more and more anxious about not finding anything. Harry's quidditch practices gave him around four hours a week to check the library, but even if it had been twenty hours, it would have been the same. Ron just couldn't find anything of value in that old place, and by the time October came, he was desperate. He had been counting on returning to his time by then, but he was just as lost as he was in the beginning.

What was he going to do? He couldn't just stay here.

"You have to stay, at least for a few more years," George said one day. The first Hogsmeade weekend had just been announced to be next week, and the twins were thrilled to see the little town.

"Hogsmeade weekends are only for third years and up, people like us. The responsible lot," Fred added with a grin. "But don't worry, we'll bring you a sweet or two."

Oliver Wood had scheduled a quidditch practice on the Friday before the Hogsmeade trip, which gave Ron a new opportunity to search the library. Not that he had much hope of finding anything, but he couldn't give up now. Hermione, the one from his time, would have insisted that he continue. Even if it meant going through every heavy, boring book in the bloody library, Ron had to keep looking. He just wasn't allowed to give up.

The trip to the library felt especially loud that day as Ron overheard some Hufflepuffs planning their Hogsmeade trips, Cedric and Audrey among them. The third years from Ravenclaw and Slytherin were excited as well, including Adrian Pucey.

Ron snorted unconsciously as he hurried along, trying to focus on finding information about that mirror. Maybe a book on recent experiments in the Department of Mysteries would be the right thing to look for, but he had come to realize that sort of book was hard to find. The latest experiments from the Department of Mysteries didn't seem like the usual book to be in a school library, after all.

In the end, he found a book on inventions from the Ministry, but Ron doubted it would have the specific information he needed. However, it was something.

Adrian Pucey was sitting at a table on the other end of the library, Ron noticed. He knew that the boy hadn't done anything to deserve being hexed, but Pucey could blame his older self for that one. That prick. How could he think that a sorry note could make up for all of his bloody mistakes?

All of a sudden, Ron remembered what the note had said and his eyes widened. Pucey had warned them to not let the Ministry attackers open the mirror. Was that what the American man had been doing when Ron found him in the Time Room? _Opening the mirror?_ It could be that whatever he had done was what allowed Ron to cross through it.

The thought ran untamed in Ron's head. Maybe that was just the thing he had been forgetting. The mirror could exist already, but it would need to be opened somehow for Ron to use it again. That made sense.

Ron was about to put away the book on the Ministry's inventions to look for something on mirrors when a voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts.

"What are you looking for?"

It was Hermione. The girl had been giving him weird looks for the past month whenever he was at the library, but she hadn't said more than a couple of sentences to him until now. Ron had tried to tell her about Fluffy a few times, but she had always cut him off, saying that she wasn't interested in whatever they did during their rule-breaking time.

Ron was so surprised she had started a conversation with him that he almost dropped the book. "Err, a book?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know you're looking for a book, we're in a library after all. I meant what book are you looking for in _this_ aisle?" she asked in confusion, moving her gaze to the shelf behind him.

"Something for homework. Er, Flitwick's that is."

The girl raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Charms? There are no Charms books over here. Only books about magical institutions and famous discoveries."

And that was exactly why Ron had been there in the first place.

"Er, I know, I have my Charms book at my table. I came here for some background reading."

Hermione stared at him as if she was trying to decide whether or not she should believe him. Ron wondered if she had been paying attention to what he had been picking out in the library in the last month. He hoped not, but it was quite possible since the girl didn't want him to beat her in class. Hermione was ahead of him in almost every single subject, and that was partly because Ron was still a bit lazy at doing his homework. Even so, she didn't seem entirely satisfied. There was always something for her to learn.

" _Inventions Born in the Ministry of Magic: Marvels and Mistakes_?" she asked seriously.

Ron realized he had left the book's title quite visible and that Hermione was staring at it. "Yeah, well, background reading," he said, smiling nervously.

She clearly wasn't convinced. If there was something as bad as McGonagall keeping an eye on him, it was Hermione thinking that there was something suspicious going on. She always found out eventually.

For a crazy moment, Ron wondered what would happen if the young Hermione discovered his past, or future, rather. It would definitely mess everything up, but on the other hand, Ron wouldn't feel so alone. Hermione would understand him even at her age, and she would be of great help to him in trying to solve this mess about mirrors and how to open them.

That was bonkers of course; he couldn't do it. In order to have his life back, he had to let her know about Fluffy, not change time beyond repair. However, talking to her about some other rubbish for a while would do wonders in loosening the knot Ron had in his stomach. The frustration of being so close for so long, and yet so far away.

Suddenly Ron felt a little brave, and even while he wasn't supposed to be her friend yet, he tried his luck. "Erm, wanna share a table? We both have Charms homework and we can... Well, if you want to, that is."

Hermione opened her eyes wide and seemed to be considering it for a blissful second. "No, thank you, I'm leaving already. See you in class," she said, walking away hastily.

It was then Ron remembered that he didn't have a Charms book on his table, and had Hermione accepted his offer, she would've realized that he had lied. Ron really had to think things through, otherwise he could get himself into a lot of trouble.

The thing that Ron dreaded the most happened: Halloween came and he was still not even close to knowing how to return to his own time. He missed his old life and was once again facing something he could drastically mess up. If he managed to do things right, he could end up being friends with both Hermione and Harry by the end of the day, but if he failed... Well, he didn't want to think about that just yet.

For the past few days, Ron had fretted a lot on the situation, but that morning he woke up knowing there was no other way around it. Hermione had to be in that bathroom, and for that to happen, Ron would have to upset her again.

He could barely stand the thought of it, hurting her like that, but he had to if life was to return to normal. Maybe once they were friends again, she would listen to the third corridor story and time would get back on track.

All the way to Charms he was on edge. It had been years since he had promised himself that he would never hurt her again, and here he was, planning on how to say those dreadful words.

How could he be the cause of her tears again?

Memories haunted Ron. He had hurt Hermione so many times before, but nothing as bad as in the Horcrux hunt.

" _You came back, that's what matters. You always come back,"_ were Hermione's usual words whenever Ron brought it back.

But Ron wasn't satisfied with that. Returning didn't erase the pain he had put her through any more than Pucey's note. Perhaps Hermione had put it behind her, but once in a while, it would come back to Ron. As if returning would make the deed right every time. As if wrongs could be forgotten. As if an apology would make what he was about to do to the younger Hermione okay.

Rubbish, that was what it all was. However, Ron didn't have half the ideas Hermione was capable of creating, and he couldn't find another way around it. He had to upset Hermione, for the sake of the timeline.

Bill would surely agree; he had always given Ron sound advice. His brother would urge him to do the least amount of damage possible, but he would have insisted on Ron doing it. Maybe Ron could get her in that bathroom without being such a git this time.

The plan wasn't that brilliant though. Ron was a good student now and he couldn't just fail the levitation spell. He had to try though, or even make Harry partner with Hermione this time. Harry could be the one bickering with her now. Unfortunately, all of Ron's possibilities vanished once the class started.

"Attention class, today is going to be our last day working on the smokescreen spell. Don't hold on to your questions as everyone should get good results by the end of this class," Professor Flitwick announced with his usual excited tone.

"Bu—but what happened to the levitation spell?" Ron asked terrified, his voice suddenly high-pitched.

"Oh, you know our program! Good for you, Mr Weasley," the small professor said, "but we lost a class some weeks back and we need to finish this spell properly before moving on to the next one. Nothing to worry about, we'll finish the program on schedule. You can rest assured that we're going to start levitating objects next week."

Ron was gobsmacked about the change, but Flitwick took his reaction for excitement. He wasn't expecting to lose the levitation charm for the troll fight and. Just as he was going through the ramifications of it, Professor Flitwick paired Hermione with Dean of all people.

Time was such a bloody prick. Apparently, it was okay for Flitwick to pass by at the same time when Malfoy grabbed Harry's broom, yet it had to change stuff that mattered.

Harry was assigned to partner with Parvati as Ron went to work with Alice Tolipan. After a few weeks in the past, Ron was getting used to seeing Alice in classes, yet he still couldn't forget the ill fate that awaited her. Ron thought about saying something nice to her, but he didn't know what. _'Sorry you're going to die'_ didn't seem to cut it.

To be honest, Ron didn't pay the girl much attention. He was focused on Hermione, who was working quietly with Dean across the room. He was hoping they would have some sort of conflict, anything that could upset Hermione enough to put her in that bathroom would have to do.

"Fo-oumus," Ron heard Neville try a few seats away, causing an explosion of something far too solid to be considered smoke. The boy ended up completely covering Seamus and himself in soot.

Minutes later, Ron heard a huff much closer to him. It was Alice, who was struggling to produce more than a few puffs of dark, wispy smoke.

"You have to move your wand more fluidly, like a spiral," Ron told her.

The redhaired girl was surprised by Ron's sudden comment, but she tried to do what he had suggested. "You mean like this?"

"Almost. You need to move your hand a little faster, and make the spiral wider," Ron answered. After that, her spellwork improved considerably. "There, you got it."

"Thanks," Alice replied with a shy smile.

Ron nodded absently, then turned his attention away from her. Professor Flitwick was helping Lavender, while Harry and Parvati appeared to have the gist of the spell already. However, there were no loud words exchanged between Dean and Hermione whatsoever, and unfortunately, that continued until the end of the class.

When Professor Flitwick dismissed class, Ron realized he had to improvise. He hurried away from Alice with the most rushed of goodbyes and went over to Harry. On their way out of the classroom, Ron kept throwing little glances behind them, waiting for Hermione. Once she was close enough, he proceeded just as last time, hoping that the lack of a struggle in class wouldn't affect the outcome.

Ron took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and forced himself to go on with it. "Did you see Dean in class? He wasn't having such a nifty time with Hermione," he said in a loud voice.

A befuddled Harry turned to him, and with good reason. Dean had frowned a little when he was teamed up with Hermione, and she had been rather bossy, but Dean managed to learn a thing or two by the end of it without an issue. Surely he had a better time in class than Seamus and Neville, who were still shaking some dark off of their robes.

"Err, I reckon some people have said she's a tad annoying," Ron continued doubtfully.

As expected, Hermione rushed past them, bumping into Harry as she left.

"I think she heard you." Harry looked at Ron awkwardly. For the first time since he had met her, the boy seemed to feel bad for Hermione.

Ever since their meeting on the train, Ron hadn't said a single bad thing about Hermione. Sometimes he tried to push her away for the sake of the timeline, but he was never as rude to her as Harry. But now, even Harry looked uncomfortable at Hermione leaving like that.

For the rest of the day, Ron felt like a pile of dung. Hermione didn't show up for any other classes and, while that was a good sign, it still made Ron miserable. From time to time, he stared at the door, a part of him hoping she would appear. Even if that would be the last thing his plan needed.

Harry noticed that Ron's attention was on Hermione's desk, but he didn't say anything about it. He had asked Ron before what he had been doing in the library, but Ron had just shrugged.

"I think I heard Parvati say that Hermione was crying in the girl's bathroom, do you think that was because of what I said?" Ron asked Harry a few hours later. Ron hadn't actually heard that, but he had to find a way to let Harry know.

Harry raised an eyebrow, surely wondering when Ron had heard that, but he merely shrugged. They were walking into the Great Hall when Harry said, "Guess you didn't hear her right."

"Ehm, what?" asked Ron, confused. But then he followed Harry's line of sight and what he saw there made him turn pale. Hermione was at dinner, her eyes a little red and puffy, but it seemed like she had been calm for some time now.

Ron's jaw dropped.

Now what? Ron hadn't been rude enough, or maybe some other thing had changed, but he wouldn't know. In the end, all that Ron had said was useless if she was in the Great Hall. It had been all for nothing.

Harry dragged him to a seat where Ron threw the occasional glance over at Hermione, thinking of what he could do now. The girl noticed him once, but simply moved her eyes away and frowned.

Ron had to do something, and he had to do it before Quirrell came through that door. He couldn't make Hermione go to the bathroom now, but he had an idea. It was mental and unlikely to work, but desperate times required desperate measures. So, as the delicious food appeared before them, Ron forced himself to his feet.

"Err, Harry? Have to go to the loo," he said, loud enough for Hermione to hear a couple of seats away. Then he ran out of there in a hurry.

While running through the first floor, Ron kept hitting his head with the palm of his hand, blaming himself for everything that had turned out wrong. He had done it again; he had messed up big time. If Hermione or Harry were here instead of him, they surely wouldn't have made a mess like this one, not this big.

Ron was good enough, he knew that. But his set of skills weren't nearly as useful as Hermione's or Harry's in this situation. He could fight till the very end and make a brilliant chess play when least expected, but making decisions? Taking the lead? That wasn't his thing. Everything that was happening was more than enough proof for that.

He had messed with the needle, and then with Snape. But Hermione not being on the third floor corridor that night was a major wrong as well. And now he was about to ruin things once more with the troll. Bigger than ever.

The troll incident was what had made them friends in the first place, and his chances were looking dire. His only shot now was that Harry and Hermione would decide to come after him as he and Harry had gone after Hermione. The odds weren't good, but it was all he had.

Soon, he heard the troll, but he kept his distance. He had to give Harry and Hermione enough time to come and help. Harry would surely come, but what about Hermione? She was mad at him, and he couldn't fix things by saving her from a troll this time. Would she come?

Then he saw it, a big, grey, lumpy body. It was hard as a rock and had short thick legs. The smell wasn't better this time either.

Ron knew he could take the troll out swiftly; it would only require two or three flicks from his wand. If he did so his plan might not work though, so he waited. He tried to think of what to do, but tricking it into the girl's bathroom was pointless now. After a quick choice, he rushed towards the mountain troll, diving at the last moment.

"Depulso!" he yelled, smashing the troll against the opposite wall. If Harry and Hermione came, they would have the troll blocked on both sides and they would get to participate.

Shaking his head as chunks of the wall fell to the floor, the monstrous creature moved towards Ron with a growl. He toyed with the troll for a few minutes, keeping it from leaving but not quite defeating it either. Suddenly, he heard rushed footsteps and his heart raced. It sounded like only one person, but who? For an instant he found himself hoping that Harry had stayed behind so that it could be Hermione coming to him. But he wasn't that lucky.

"Ron!" a voice yelled and the redhead felt a mix of relief and disappointment. It was Harry, only Harry.

"Harry! Where's Her— What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to control his surprise.

"Professor Quirrell said something about a troll, then he fainted," Harry shouted, his eyes widening at the troll. The lumpy thing tried to hit him with his huge club, but fortunately Harry moved faster and the damage was done to the wall.

The troll had hit the hallway walls a lot before Harry had arrived, so Ron had his fair share of things to throw. He couldn't be using spells that he wasn't supposed to know in front of Harry, after all.

Ron managed to hit the troll on the head with a heavy rock. It was a move worthy of a chaser, since that head wasn't exactly the biggest of targets. "Over here, you bloody monster!" he shouted.

Once he got its attention, Ron hurried inside an empty classroom and the smelly thing followed him in there.

" _Fumos_!" Ron quickly cast the smokescreen spell they just learned in class. It was pretty basic, but good enough to confuse the troll.

The classroom was briefly filled with a thick layer of smoke. The troll tried to swing its way out of the smoke, but the club only found student desks, sending them up in the air with each hit. Ron threw more rocks at it and, by the time Harry came running inside the room, the smoke had gotten thinner. Shapes and figures could be seen more easily now.

"Do something!" Harry yelled, coughing on the receding smoke. The boy's attention was then caught on a heavy book resting on a table, and he hurried to throw it without much success.

" _Me?_ "

"Yes, you! You're better with spells!"

Ron had been trying to let Harry take part in the action too. After all, he had to be ready for things like this. Even so, Ron couldn't deny that the boy expected more from him now.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " Ron said, pointing his wand at the club. It was the only spell he associated with this event, but it was not the brightest of choices. He would have to tell Harry that he was reading ahead after.

The club floated away from the troll's hand and into the air, but Ron stumbled a bit and missed the thing's head. He couldn't blame himself, that head was like a pea compared to the rest of the troll's freakishly large body.

The troll's heavy feet started moving toward Ron with a nasty shout, but he was clubless at least. Ron was trying to think of what he could do with the small number of spells he was supposed to know when Harry reacted. The boy must have thought Ron was in danger.

" _Locomotor Mortis!_ " Harry yelled in desperation.

Harry's spell wasn't strong enough to bind the troll's legs together, but it did manage to make it stumble and fall with a loud bang. Giant splinters of wood flew into the air as a result of the crash. When the troll didn't immediately stand up, Ron ran over to Harry.

"That was brilliant!" Ron shouted, smiling for real for the first time that day. However, they were both covered in dust. That dust wasn't black, but it still reminded Ron of _that day_ at the Ministry's Atrium.

"It didn't work! Look!" Harry shouted suddenly.

Whirling around, Ron saw with mounting horror that the mountain troll was rising from the floor. And even worse, it had managed to find its heavy club again. Ron began to wonder if rushing out of there and leaving the thing for the professors was a good idea. But then the door swung open with a bang and a red spell hit the troll, causing it to descend towards the floor, landing with a resounding thud.

Professor McGonagall had been the one to throw the spell, Ron saw. Snape and Quirrell were with her, as Ron expected. The man with the turban forced a sick look on his face as he stared at the troll on the floor, quivering.

"Merlin! What on earth were you thinking?" demanded Professor McGonagall, her eyes open in surprise. "You're lucky you weren't _killed_."

"I needed to go to the loo, professor," said Ron awkwardly. "I didn't know."

"I am aware of that, Mr Weasley, but I don't see any of you in a bathroom," she said, looking serious. Ron was about to reply when she turned to Harry. "And Mr Potter, you should've come to warn us instead. Can you imagine what could have happened here if Miss Granger hadn't let us know?"

Ron's eyes widened. Of course Hermione's first impulse had been to inform someone who was more capable of dealing with a troll. He wondered if she had tried to stop Harry from coming, or if Harry had tried to convince her to follow him.

Professor McGonagall asked for the whole story, and Ron and Harry told them everything. McGonagall was impressed that the both of them had managed to hold the troll off for that long. This time, they went back to the common room with house points for the both of them and without Hermione losing any.

Naturally, the twins wanted all the details, which they promptly got. However, Ron's attention was fixed on Hermione; the girl had been rambling anxiously, but when she saw them enter the common room she let out a sigh of relief. She didn't talk to them but from the conversations he overheard, Ron found out she had tried to follow Harry after letting McGonagall know. The professor hadn't let her, of course. It turned out that Ron's last minute plan had been very close to working out.

Much to his surprise, Alice Tolipan came to Ron as well, telling him that she was glad they were alright. The girl had been paying attention to Ron when he had announced his bathroom trip in the Great Hall, and she had let Percy know. However, Hermione had been faster in finding McGonagall than Percy was. Ron thanked Alice anyway.

Even when things could have gone a whole lot worse, they were still nowhere near to being okay. Ron didn't know if Hermione was still mad at them or if she would try to talk to them the next morning, but he knew for sure that they weren't friends yet. It was only Harry and him for now. There was no Golden Trio and without it, the entire future was at risk.

Suddenly, the search for a way to return back to his time had become less important. Ron had made too many mistakes already, and he knew he couldn't leave without fixing this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Quick Jynx


End file.
